Untold, Unheard....Incomplete

He lit up the stick of cigarette. It was going to be a long walk, he was skeptic but then now turning back was not an option. He trudged along as the wind whispered thru my hair and the dust ruffled his ears. 6 minutes to smoke a ciggie that is how much he will walk. The puff of smoke and taste of nicotine, it is just him and himself. Each drag he take, suck out the so called memories. Each smoke he blow out, accelerate the flight of time.


On the other side lies an incomplete diary entry and laptop on standby. She walks up to the room, silence of an unexpected ease. She was curious but then asking for queries were not an option. The din of emptiness deafened her; a chill of uneasiness ran up her spine. 6 minutes past 11. 6 minutes since the last call. The confines of the room and a view of a dark alleyway. It just her and herself. Each breath of hers bought fresh memories, Each gust of breeze carried her across the sands of time.