A Theatrical Start

"Alone in the lab at 2:30 AM, working and listening to random songs on Pandora. Pandora amuses me by playing Akon - Lonely! I scramble to find the mouse beneath the heap of papers to change the track and find someone online in need of a hug!"

Something inside me immediately makes me talk to her. I have a brief conversation with her, subconsciously trying to cheer her up. She must've thought I'm a good guy. She did indeed! Leaving her happier than before, I continue with my work. I wanted to complete everything within one hour so that I could get some sleep before tomorrow mornings lecture at 10:30 AM. Amidst the thick darkness I sit alone with narrowed eyes and a fixed, concentrated look. I sigh!

It's 3:40 AM and I'm almost finished. Another 15 minutes and I'll go home. Just then I freeze in astonishment. Something hits me hard within. Suddenly, from nowhere, while still staring at my papers with innumerable complicated figures and numbers, a thought pierces itself through my flesh, right to my heart.

Home? Where is home? What made me talk to her online? I didn't need to. I was busy, over occupied, tired and exhausted! Dozens of people have varied and weird custom messages on GTalk, why should I bother? I must be a very very good man to even bother reading such messages. I ain't working now, simply staring. So? What made me talk to her? Was it her loneliness or mine? Why am I sitting in this lab thousands of miles away from home, alone, in the early hours of morning?

Am I enjoying this?

I push aside all these thoughts, collect my papers together and get up. As a habit I recently picked up, I look at my watch. It's 4:30 AM! Had I been thinking so long? Had I dozed off? I would never know. As thoughts swiftly move inwards and invade my peace I restlessly search for the drug in my bag. It's like a race between the good and the evil. Was I a slave to the evil? The greed? As the thought of leaving everything and returning 'home' creeps dangerously within me I quickly gulp three tablets down my throat. I walk out of the lab as quickly as possible as if it is contaminated with some fatal fungus.

I lay on bed with my arms open wide staring expressionless towards the ceiling and my unfinished work beside me.

(This post is born from the conversation I had with an old friend. He happened to say the first three lines of the post in the most casual manner. However, the lines kind of stayed with me and this is what I did with them. This is not the best story I could have written, but the first thing my heart weaved around those lines. Thanks Ro, for those inspiring lines. :-) )

P.S. The rest of the story is a fictional creation and any resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental.
:-p