The tube light kept flickering in his cabin. He had removed all his personal things including the mask, a colleague got him from Nepal. The walls in his cabin were stripped of all the frills. Only the nails remained. He was ready . There were no memories. No tears. No regrets. People around him had already started looking like strangers. There was a spiral staircase. Going up. He had stopped using that. Stopped going up. Last time he did, noxious fumes hanging in the air nearly killed him. As he gasped for breath, he saw shapeless figures floating around. Some of them lay on the ground, coiled up like snakes. The place was crawling with snakes and cockroaches-hissing together. Within minutes, they were all over him. He was dying. As he tried to fight back, he saw the laughing hyenas slowly surrounding him. Waiting for him to die. Waiting to pounce on the dead caracas. Feast on his rotten flesh. . A huge vulture was pecking furiously at his stomach, trying to dig out the entrails. And then suddenly he slipped down the spiral staircase. He was bleeding. Stings of cockroaches and snakebites had nearly disfigured him.
That was sometime ago. He had managed go survive. But the scars remained. He touched them. They didn't hurt anymore. Wounds had healed. He picked up his bag. His car keys. Opened the glass door. Stepped out of the building. Turned around to see it for one last time. It had disappeared. He started walking......
