Sometimes, I just scour my surroundings to look for the inspiration to write. I tried to recall what went on during the day and I made a brief attempt trying to seek clarity amongst confusion. That immense tinge of a writer's block through which no amount of whoring can actually ever gather any jism. Since all I can ever scour out of my surroundings is just...nothing. Bare. Empty. Piles and heaps of non-organic rubble.
*****
I drove by last night at your place. I waved to the security guard nonchalantly. A moment's hesitatation later, he raised the gate. Not before I caught him mumbling under his breath a faint, explicit sense of doubt, though considering that wasn't our first encounter. A stroke of luck found me a parking lot near the lobby entrance on the 2nd floor. I trembled slightly as I typed the sms to announce my presence, trying hard not to give the game away. I alighted, peered around for familiar signs of life before I lit my cigarette. I clutched tightly at the package, briefly reminding myself that I missed giving you these surprises. I snubbed the cigarette on the ground. I checked my watch. 11:21pm.
10 minutes passed.
I made several attempts for a quick sneak at your window. Darkness.
20 minutes.
I got into the car. Placed my hand gently on the package again as I tried to imbue a sense of adamancy before turning into poignancy. I reminded myself you were under a sickly spell and you might have retired for the night. I struggled to stopped my conscience before I start asking myself another question.
12 midnight.
I rolled down the windows. Time crept at the oscillation of a sand grain. I stared at the package again. And towards the emptiness out in the barren night sky. The cold was starting to prick my skin. I lit another cigarette.
15 minutes pass midnight.
I was beginning to get dreary and listless. I clutched the package again and looked towards the lobby entrance for the upteenth time. The foreboding sense of anticipation was about to implode within my head. It started to actually hurt. I had to reassure myself. I had so much to tell you.
30 minutes pass midnight and 4 cigarettes later.
Your curtains grey tinge remained pale under the night. I know its impossible to wake you once you've succumbed to slumber. After that thought raced across my mind, I imagined myself beside you. Clutched in your bosom as we slept. I missed having your skin on mine.
I started the engine and rambled slowly out of the gate. I maintained my speedo under 60, and kept off the expressways. Just so if, by any chance, you might wake and call me. I stopped briefly at the petrol kiosk to grab batteries for my dad. Again, deliberately for the delay.
I reached home 40 minutes later - twice the time it usually took me. I took a last glance at my mobile before I held the package under my arm and walked that mile long corridor towards my lobby.
*****
Post-script : Holland needs to put in more work on its TEAM strategies. The keyword is TEAM. Seriously.
