Story in Frames

Rooms can be a lot of things, mean a lot of things. This one's dark, dingy. It's closed from all sides. It doesn't know however, that it is willfully so. Even if that seems unfounded. And even if it appears untenable- there's always a choice. The room always has choice. And then there are times when it needs to be made to see that choice.
But, coming back. The room- its rotten. In more than ways than one. And there's not a door. Not even a window. That is how it seems, at the very least.

Thinking about suicide is consoling- gets one through many a bad night.

He sits hunched up against a wall. They are all the same- every direction he looks in. I mean all the walls. So, hardly any point in specifying which wall he sits hunched up against. Head in his hands. Shirt sleeves not rolled up. Thats an oddity with him. Its almost like he is too high on despair to care. I say 'high' for a reason. 'highs' are addictive.
He can feel other emotions- anger, for one. Anger at himself maybe, anger at others maybe, anger at life itself maybe. But, what's perhaps most striking about this frame is Despair. Despair with a capital D.

The room does have some decorations, by the way. There's a table. With a single, flickering, almost gone candle. Almost like its saying something. There's a cubical box on this table. The size of, hmmm..., lets say a football, only a little smaller than a football.

There's a mirror. Broken. Lying in pieces beside him, on the floor. You see, he couldn't take looking into it. Introspection, well, is an interesting thing.

"a cliff, free fall, head-first (feet-first might not achieve the objective)", he thinks. As i said before, its consoling. Though, there's something interesting here, paradoxically. He seeks freedom in death. Arms outstretched. Smile on his face. Thats the picture of it in his mind. And then, the jump. For most, thinking of suicide is consoling. For him, its uplifting too.

And suddenly, God knows why, call it a gut feeling if you may, he knows the solution to it all. Maybe, its not going to be a free fall. Maybe its poison. Maybe the answer is the box on the table.

He tries getting up. Stumbles. Moves towards the table. His legs are numb from all the giving up. But, still. He wants desperately to put an end to all this. Despair and Desperation :-) So, he moves. One can feel imminence in the air as he stands there, looking at that box. With trembling hands and a nervous click to its lid, opens it.

Ting. Dhishoom. Straight to his nose. Its a Jack-in-the-box. And as it hits his nose, it goes straight past him for the wall behind. There's a hole in the wall. As he stands there, clearly shaken up and looking positively bewildered, "You can climb out now, stupid!", says the room. Some rooms can talk too.

Let's kill our appetite for tragedy.