He did not belong to anyone. He used and threw them. Now he was sick from a terminal illness, lying alone. His housekeeper of 10 years walked to him and changed his clothes without emotion. “Thank you,” he told her. Had he spoken to her? She looked at him, stunned. He could detect some deep feeling behind her eyes for the first time. He had never known her eyes were intelligent and kind. Why had he not seen her before? The way she looked at him! He held her hands, gratified that he had found true love at last.
Tough-looking muscled men chopped the trees, cutting nature’s artwork to make way for furniture. Loud women worked with them, chatting and laughing. The little one hid behind the trees, glad that she had no legs. She was scared that they would find her out. She nibbled on the cakes and fruits they had left in the corner. It was the same every year; she longed for new cream cakes and pastries. She paused, startled. A man came quite close to her. If the little one had a heart, it would have thudded. But, she had died 5 years ago.
He stood in front of the crowds, his mouth wide open, and his guitar hanging by his side. He stared at the ogling girls and the scowling boys who had been dragged there by girlfriends. He had forgotten everything. What was he supposed to do? “Come on, man. You are the greatest rock star of the century. Get going.” his lead guitarist hissed at him. The rock star blinked. He could remember nothing beyond his 10th birthday when his dad had insisted that he learn guitar. “I had always wanted to be a rock star.” his dad had said.