DISCLAIMER: The themes might be influenced by my own life or of people and things around me. But by no means are these stories chunks of my life or anyone else. THIS IS PURE FICTION.)
The idle familiarity of home calmed his frazzled nerves. Finally...finally he could rid himself of all those clawing agonies that had plagued him through morn and dream.
Home was the best eraser to wipe away pages and pages of things you never wanted to be associated with, but had inevitably got yourself mixed with.
The smells of that single layer of dust that somehow managed to always stick to the sofa cushions acted like a balm. The faint sounds of the radio from the kitchen across the bend of the corridor, sounded like a lullaby. He sank deeper into the sofa and told his mind that nothing could go wrong anymore. He had got his soul back.
Home was the best eraser to wipe away pages and pages of things you never wanted to be associated with, but had inevitably got yourself mixed with.
The smells of that single layer of dust that somehow managed to always stick to the sofa cushions acted like a balm. The faint sounds of the radio from the kitchen across the bend of the corridor, sounded like a lullaby. He sank deeper into the sofa and told his mind that nothing could go wrong anymore. He had got his soul back.
2 comments
Stories are always a reflection of the inner self.
And going by what you wrote, seems to me that you must have missed home terribly, and must have felt great to finally get back!!! :)
ABSOLUTELY! :D Was inspired by the self in that home aspect. The rest of the trauma is pretty much imagined! :P
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