by Chaitanya

It was only five in the evening but it was dark outside, it started to rain as Sid looked out from his office. It was a corner office on the 12th floor and had a really good view. It was a friday evening and Sid had a little work to finish before he could wind up for the week.

Now it was really pouring, he didn't understand why but the sound of rain pattering against his window was making him uneasy. It was 10 minutes to six now and Sid didn't feel like staying there any longer. He shut his computer down and walked towards the elevator. Most of his colleagues were still there. They were really into the party circuit and frequented the coolest pubs in the city. Sid had never liked pubs, 'losing yourself to the music' was never his mantra. He hated crowds and crowded places.

As he drove out of the building he noticed the watchman standing out there in the rain with only a flimsy umbrella over his head. Sid never saw a happier man than him. He had once asked the watchman what he did with his free time, since he worked only one shift. He answered that he made furniture, he loved carpentry.

The streets were vacant, there were very few people in the shops on either side of the road. It was a 20 minute drive from here to his home. His wife would be waiting for him. She was the only thing that still connected him to society, after he started working he became increasingly reclusive. He communicated with people only when his work required him to, the rest of the time he kept to himself.

He was paid well to teach stupid boxes with flickering screens how to think. His work was not very exciting, but no one promised him that it would be. Work was work, he had to do it though he did not particularly like it. \"It is the weather\" he said to himself as he turned left and pulled up to the driveway of his house,\"That explains why i've been having all these crazy thoughts\", he tried to shake the melancholous mood off.

He kissed his wife at the doorway quickly and undressed and went into the bathroom, a hot shower always made him feel better. It must've worked because his mind wandered off to his childhood memories. He was always getting into trouble for climbing trees, he had loved climbing. When he was a kid he made a promise to himself that someday he would climb mountains. He had never followed up on that.

He dried himself up and got into night clothes and sat at the dining table. He always made it a point to have atleast one meal a day with his wife. She asked him how his day was and he answered in a few syllables, he didn't like talking about his work. He didn't deem it important enough to discuss.

They finished eating and he helped his wife clean up. They went into the bedroom and he sat at the edge of the bed watching his wife as she folded the clothes she had cleaned that morning. He had this habit of looking at people around him as if for the first time, observing their every movement and every expression on their faces.

She looked so content, so satisfied. This was something he never understood, how did one achive it? A line from a movie came to his mind, \"The scariest thing in the world is not knowing your place in it\" He didn't know his place, he just looked on as life passed by him slowly and steadily, one week at a time. He had never felt as miserable as he did now. It seemed as if a dyke had broken inside of him. He pulled his wife close, buried his face in her bosom and sobbed violently, he shuddered so much that his whole body shook. His wife didn't understand what happened neither did he, she wept with him. After what seemed like a lifetime, he wiped the tears off his half swollen eyes and tried to laugh her fears off. \" I don't know why I did that, it must be the weather\" he said as he looked out vacantly through the open window. \"It must be the weather\" .

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