Ronnie took a deep puff off his cigarette,exhaling life out.
Life had been his subject, in the material sense. His brain was an envied storehouse of knowledge, maintained by his unparalleled brilliance and proverbial memory . He had been an exemplary student, an Oxbridge scholar and now an esteemed Professor in a top Indian university.
Taking ‘Ulysses’ off of the heavily-stuffed teakwood bookshelf, he turned to the book-marked page and the underlined words: ‘Can’t bring back time .Like holding water in your hand’.
Aware of the stream of trickling tears, behind his spectacles, he now smiled,relishing the knowledge that he was just as human.
The food in the microwave was ready and the flickering light of the candle, created a web of brilliant uncertainty .
The cocktail of beauty from Mozart in the gramophone, the pearly letters in the book and his favorite food in his finest bone china, filled his empty soul.
Post-dinner and the routine medicines, he took the plunge to dissolve into a permanent darkness, from the 13th floor of his apartment. He was 37.
Word count – 175
This week’s photo prompt is provided by Pamela S. Canepa. Thank you Pamela!