I have written stories. I have read stories.
Some stories, such as these, leave me in a state of turmoil. A part of me finds them lovable, and another part of me wonders if I relate to them at all. So instead of smiling a half truth smile, I smile exactly the way I should.
Sometimes I feel like I am playing games with my soul, touching more than I can reach out to. I can play act well that way. And at other times, I wonder how calmly aimless my life is. I am still lost, not wanting to be found, drifting peacefully, content with my aimlessness.
And thats when these stories come up from nowhere. Hitting me with these waves, splashes, bursts of excitement and daring me to not be swept away. But you know what, I am as happy and content being swept away, as I am not.
A very thin line there between dead and content, isn't it?
So heres one -
Can a content man die?
The chase had ended and the drama was over. Each breath that they now took was drenched in this stunning silence. They loved watching movies together before going to bed, and this was yet another satisfying one. This time, a thriller.
As he slipped into his dream with the ease of his hand slipping into hers', warmly tucked under the blue blanket, she moved for the umpteenth time getting her sleeping posture just right. They had hardly begun to wander off into that blissful dream state, when he suddenly felt her soft but cold hand on his cheek. His eyes smiled and he knew it was morning. And she had again woken up, walked around the house, enjoyed the chill in the air, and now back to relish the warmth of a winter morning bed with her love in it. Yet another beautiful morning next to his girl, the girl with the prettiest smile in the whole world.
As she moved closer, he opened his eyes as much as he could, kissed the inside of her palm and pulled her into his arms, hugging her with every inch of his existence.
She felt soft and nice, and he felt content. A broad smile brushed his sleepy face and he slipped back into the dream. The dream of having your dream in your arms.
He was content, and dead to the world.