Pyro

HE has been sitting there for hours trying to concentrate on finding the right words. He’s been at it for quite sometime now and it was beginning to tire him. It has been keeping him so busy that he hasn’t been able to give her attention like he used to neither he is accompanying her to her weekly sessions. Last time he checked, she had missed one appointment. He barely sees her these days. He has locked himself up in his study adamant on finishing the last few pages of his book. He calls it his best work so far. He is hoping to finish the book as soon as possible so he can be with her again – like old times.

SHE has been sitting there for hours trying to divert her thoughts. Its been a few days since it started to come back to her. She has been missing him but he has been too busy lately.  She doesn’t like it when he gets distracted from his work because of her but she can’t seem to get hold of her inner burnings. They have been driving her mad these days. She has been skipping her therapies at the rehab too. She barely gets to see him these days. He has locked himself up in his study as he needs to finish his book – his masterpiece. All she wants is this to end so she can be with him again like old times.

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HE walked over to his desk, picked up the pen and jotted down the thoughts that were hitting him from all directions. He wanted to let go of all the restraints. He was beginning to get more control over his thoughts. Shifting his attention to his laptop, his fingers started to type vehemently at the keyboard. He didn’t want to miss even a single line of his thought-train. He kept on typing, transferring all the words out from his mind onto the screen in front of him. With the last word typed, he felt a surge of satisfaction. His masterpiece was finally complete. Closing the lid of the laptop, he eased back into his chair and closed his eyes.

SHE got up from the bed and started to pace back and forth in her room trying to push away the thoughts attacking her from all directions. She needed all sorts of restraints to hold everything in place. But now, she was beginning to lose control. Her sanity kept on clashing with her snapping nerves. Giving in to her urges, she pulled out the first drawer of her dresser, her fingers trembled as she sought it from the clutter. Grasping it tightly in her hands, she knew she can’t turn back once its done and may be she didn’t want to either. It was the only thing that could calm her, satisfy her, take away the building pressure. After all, it had never left her side since she turned 14. She felt a surge of relief as she took out the matchstick and made her master stroke. Throwing the lighted matchstick on the kerosene- doused curtain, she closed her eyes.

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Two days later, a news surfaced that the house of a well-known author was consumed by fire. The author was said to be working on the last chapter of  the book he claimed to be his best work to date. It was said that his wife had a relapse. She had been diagnosed with a rare disorder – pyromania, two years ago.