In Blind Sight
What started as a series of rants in a diary have turned into a work in progress novel exploring a love of distractions.
Needless to say he had reached home, finally, after a slight delay at the parking lot outside his office. He knew he couldn’t stay forever there he had to come home to his wife, as much as he might have loathed the thought. That was an odd feeling. Someone had parked their car in a very rude manner outside his house taking more space than they should have, he was agitated at that and thought as he pressed the brakes, “A few inches to the back wouldn’t have killed you”. He would have to go looking for a parking spot somewhere else and walk the rest of the way, a little voice in his head said that might be fun, he listened with interest looking for a place to park.
The neighbourhood was like any other I won’t go into details just a few so I’ll leave you to imagine how it might be, I believe our friend would enjoy that more. There were homes and people lived there with their families, friends, lovers, and foes, one might often see some of them out in the open; children playing; a conversation going on; but that wasn’t always the case in fact recently it had become quite deserted, people were leaving for the much more affluent areas, ones which boasted such things as their own medical centres and private parks, recreational centres and other things more suited to extroverts. His wife would mention such cases to him with the name of a neighbour whom he couldn’t recall ever seeing or interacting with and frankly wouldn’t even bother for; that often got her vexed. Yes, the place was slightly dull though he didn’t mind, he liked the neighbourhood and his house. It was something else that pinched him so much something more personal, deeper, he couldn’t put it into words but he knew there was something that he wanted.
I used to own a Black Bird once we lovingly called her Mintu, it didn’t mean anything and was merely an attempt to give her a false identity. She was beautiful with her dark as night plumage and sweet yet savoury song. She stayed with us for twelve years forever treating us to her lament for the skies, today I look at them as a lament, then it was sweet singing. She often tried to escape but not being used to flying as much, she would soon be seen to her caged home. Full of energy in her attempts to escape, but as soon as she was returned her beak would sag slightly at the thought of near freedom but also at the sight of the food we kept for her at all times. I can’t read the thoughts of birds as much as I’d want to but I’m sure she considered the benefits of being captive over those of being free. The point of relating this tale at this odd moment is to elaborate a point, I believe our friends pinching sensation to be no different than my Black Bird’s.