Thought Crimes

Chocolate dark brown, peach on the darker side and white. The 2 walls and ceiling of my room converge at the less holy confluence and my eyes inadvertently stray to that spot. The bean bag I’ve stretched myself out on becomes more comfortable by the minute. A good meal has been had and all is right with the world. The lights are off, but some friendly rays are allowed to filter through the curtains, allowing the room to be shrouded in a dark cloak. But there is just enough light for each object to proclaim its existence though not its identity- a comfortable state of hazy darkness that I feel most at home in. The fan whirs above me- silent but effective. It is always dynamic yet everlastingly static, something that never tires me of my fascination of watching it for hours on end. Siesta time means there’s peace and quiet around, though the faint drumming of men at work can be discerned in the distance. Dozens of thoughts flit harmlessly through my mind, to be replaced by dozens more. All non-sequitur. My eyes wander, lazily going over the knickknacks here and there. A sudden guffaw breaks the calm of silence- my sister is watching Friends close by, using earphones at my insistence. A thorough knowledge of the sitcom coupled with what is audible through the phones allows me to acknowledge the source of laughter and I smile within, allowing my mouth to twitch a bit in the bargain. The hands of the clock tick by, but somehow, my sanctum sanctorum is unaffected by the merciless tide of time. Within these four walls, stillness reigns supreme. Some minutes pass by and I adjust my posture a bit to make myself, if possible, still more comfortable. The whole cycle is repeated. Again. And again.
Heaven.