Bored... very very bored. It can only get better at being boring.
Bereft of all emotions, all desires, I keep ticking. I feel like a gear in the huge, unwanted machinery, which pretends that it is doing something exceptional, something other-worldly, devoid of any sort of emotional lubrication.
I feel like a robot, away from home, sans all inclinations towards companionship. The telephone has become my channel to the other world. Time and again, weak signals and hot/throbbing ear-drums tell me how vulnerable I am-- How vulnerable is my family, out of my view, out of my care, my vigil.

Falling in love with inanimate things was something I would have never imagined myself doing. Yes, I love my AirCooler. I love the taps. I love my kitchen and how it smells when I manufacture something edible.

"huh?"