Give Me a Hand

A heart glowed on the road down his window. Its light hurt his eyes. Won’t let him sleep. Never let him sleep in the nights. Closing his eyes won’t help. The light made everything that came in its way transparent. He had to get up and go to the window. He found a boy coming down the street, his eyes lowered. He hung his head out and cried –

“Hey there, kid. Would you mind turning the heart off on your way?”

The Balloon that Rose up from Sleep

One morning, as I woke up, I found my palms were empty. The lines had detached themselves from my palms. They were floating around in the different corners of the mid-air in my bedroom. Like strings lighter than the air. Like destiny trapped in a hydrogen filled balloon, covering the distance between the heaven and the hand.

That evening I told my father –

“Dad, you know what happened when I woke up this morning?”

My father smiled.

“Son, you’re insomniac. You haven’t woken up for centuries.”