To Daphne

Shouts and screams echoed in the National Intel Organization – TOOTHBRUSH SKIMS ULCER. DON’T PUSH ME.

Johnny walked to and fro across his office with heavy footsteps, his eyebrow strained as his mind was cluttered. He snapped his fingers silently as he pondered upon that phrase.

“Toothbrush skims ulcer. Toothbrush skims ulcer. Toothbrush... What could it possibly mean?”

Agent M was shot dead while working on an important case. With his last bit of strength, he spoke through the mike on his lapel those six mind-boggling words: Toothbrush skims ulcer. Don’t push me. The officers working on the case burst out through the doors of the communications room, shouting and screaming as they demanded that every agent in the building gave them the most suitable interpretation of that phrase as it could provide the only breakthrough for the case they have been working on for months.


crossing of two paths 6

To dance along to the tune that was being played, to put on a mask and be part of a masquerade ball, it was all too easy an act to play. He stumbled his way into his car, and silently departed from the scene. No one knew who he was; no one knew his pain... no one...



crossing of two paths 5

He walked out from the masquerade ball panting. Sweat dripped from his forehead and streamed down, wetting his collar. His back was all wet. Blood starting gushing out from his thigh’s wound, but the black-coloured pants covered it up pretty well. There were a few droplets all over the dance floor, but too insignificant for anyone to realize. He stretched out his hand towards the park bench outside to support his own weight. Foam started to gather in his mouth.

Who was that guy?
He danced so well...
That was a breathtaking smile!!
Does anyone know who that was?

And so he walked out into the night, without anyone knowing who he was. He took off his mask, and lifted it over the trash can, ready to throw it away. He hesitated, and let out a sigh as he stared at the mask.