“An arbitrary incision was all that was required.

Put an unconcealed impediment to the flow of time, lacerate an unexpected scar, and let them both stand in silence, experience the loss of the pain together.

Most certainly the tables would have turned then.

Rather that than this… this distressing, excruciating agony of a wrongful deliverance, which seemed only natural at a given point in time!

Look what they’ve done. A flawless, scurried close to a teething moment of the roses’ budding.

Misinterpreted, misread, misjudged and miscommunicated!”

With that, he shuts his book, puts it on his side table and gets his glasses off. Weary of the stress in his eyes, he shuts the lights and pulls on the quilt for a comfortable stance on the bed. A few minutes later he wakes up startled. Hastily turns on the light, and picks up the book. Frantically he flips to the page he thinks he last closed it on, and realised how right he was. He never read that passage in the book.

It was his mind trying to console him with just one another possibility of the why and the how of the unknown, yet unacceptable conclusion.