So You Think You Can Tell?

That afternoon, nothing was more depressing for him than to hear the voice he had once learnt to love, putting him down. He cursed himself for forgetting what she had done to him three years ago. He knew he had not loved anyone with such intensity before her. He was in love again, with a new girl, more intense, better. He had expected her to share his new found happiness with him. He could sense the arrogance in her voice. He could sense the hatred she had developed over the years. He could sense her happiness seeking his own solace, to end it, to destroy it. While he was being told that he was a no good story spinner who wants to be someone else, he was busy remembering how all this had gone down. He remembered how he had not wanted to break these chains. He remembered how it was utterly difficult for him to digest anything he had heard in those two years of companionship with her. He knew her truth. Venomous. How she had claimed she had dreams beyond the reach of an average human. How she had told him how they would share a future that would be unmatched. He remembered how he had left everything and everyone just to love her each and every second of his life. He remembered the sting of depression in its true sense. Halfway through the conversation, after being told that he was a good for nothing loser in life she told him how everyone who has left him has been sensible enough in doing so; he started laughing. He laughed his heart out. He had just in a breath realised that he had been through all this and none of this would ever effect him again. Click! He hung up and walked towards the refrigerator. Phew! What a day! He thought to himself. He switched the television on. He poured a Bacardi into his glass and added a couple of cubes of ice. Cheering his own idiosyncrasy he made a toast to his past and to things he did not ever want to relive. He thought about the great times he has had and the bad ones from which he had learnt. He was happy. Things around him were not in great shape. But still, he was happy in his new found maturity and happiness. Happiness that had come from the fact that he could selflessly love again. 

He didn't realise that he had slipped into sleep on his couch itself. His phone rang at around 7pm in the evening. He rubbed his eyes and soon realised that he had missed the call. Maybe it was from her trying to act nasty again about how he had hung up on her. He knew he had had enough of that now. He noticed how outside everything was dead quiet. Not even a faint sound was there to give him company. He reached for his glass of Bacardi and barely managed to scoop it off the side table. Suddenly, BEEP BEEP ! his cellular phone rang. The calm and the loud sudden beep of his phone had caused the Bacardi glass to slip out of his hand. It broke almost instantly. He thought, if he could slow down time he would realise that the glass had broken even before hitting the ground. It felt as if it was rigged to break anyhow. He picked up his phone and read the message. fck u! dnt evr try 2 call me again ... u loser! He smiled. Suddenly the door bell rang. He was wondering who it was, maybe one of his friends willing to take him out. Maybe that breath of fresh air he needed so much after a lazy day and an early evening nap was here. He opened the door. In front of him stood a fair, good looking guy, smiling at him. It was weird. He was well dressed but not too formal. He had his hands behind his back. How have you been sir? the young man asked him. Huh? he had not expected that. Out of the blue the sweet looking guy pulled out a .24 Colt Revolver. The distance between the center of his forehead and the gun barrel was almost zero in the next second. He then noticed that the guy's expression had suddenly changed from that of smiling to that of rage. Uhh .... before he could say a word, the stranger pulled the trigger. BANG! There was no time. He suddenly woke up in his couch. He noticed that the television was still playing. He looked at the wall clock it was 6:23pm. Vehicles were making a lot of noise on the road nearby. He was covered in his own perspiration. He had goosebumps. He noticed his Bacardi was still on the side table. Very much intact. He wondered how real the dream, he had just been in, was. Or is this something that happens after someone is dead? he thought. Holy shit! he wiped his forehead. He had to call someone. He picked his phone and redialed the last dialed number. He didn't care who it was. He just wanted to hear another voice to make him feel alive. What now you moron ... did you pee your pants? the voice on the other side of the line said. He hated that voice. He hated her from the core of his heart. Still he was glad he was alive and in control. Do you think you can tell? he asked her. What!!! ... I mean ... she was about to break into a barrage of fury when he knew what he had to do. Click! He hung up and walked towards his refrigerator.