As the age of night grows and the whistle of the night watchman falls silent, time plays hide and seek games with you. If you are still awake, that is. I tell you, time is a slippery cunning bastard. It hovers around and irritates you when you don’t need it and it slips away faster than Rakhi Sawant’s dresses when you need it the most.

It’s almost 3 am now and what was supposed to be finished in just an hour has taken three hours already! I hardly realized until I looked at the ignored bottom right corner of my sea-blue windows task bar – the final resting place for fossilized tasks, dead and long forgotten.
The balls in my eye sockets are wobbling already and the springs in my eyelids have lost their elasticity.

Around me is a riot of carcasses. Of slain mosquitoes. Some with their wings and bodies intact and some with their guts mercilessly squeezed out. The floor is stained with my blood spilled out of their fragile bodies. My legs are tingling with a thousand pin pricks. I have shut the door and the window and have been killing these winged creatures for the past three hours. Still they just keep coming in. As if these rascals have been having sex all around me, procreating and sending their kids to have a sip of my late night blood. Where the hell are the appearing from?

But sometimes, just sometimes, in the most ungodly hours, God chooses something good for you, if not earth shattering. I just discovered a more efficient way of killing mosquitoes. Just slap the creature in its flight as hard as you can and see them crash to the floor, flap their wings randomly before falling motionless. No squatting, no blood, faster and greater hit ratio. Perfect, peaceful murder.

As I continue to save my hard-earned blood from the humming suckers, night slowly dissolves into day in a silent osmosis through the semipermeable membrane of my fatigued retina. And the springs of the eye slowly goes down…down…d…o….w….n.

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