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Will You Come???

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That day— when Death leans in to claim me, and a cold wind kisses what was once my face— My soul will not go gently. It will tear itself from this fading flesh and stand at the threshold, refusing to cross, searching the crowd for one face only. Yours. Before they wrap me in white. Before the pyre is built, before the flames climb hungry toward the sky. Before my name becomes a memory whispered in prayers. Or— One breath before my chest forgets how to rise. One moment before the light behind my eyes burns out. One single, trembling second where I am still here, still warm, still yours. Will you come? Not for ritual. Not for mercy. For me. Just your hand upon mine— not to say goodbye, but to find me. To call me home. To press salvation into dying skin with the weight of all the touches we never dared. Let the fire wait. Let the river wait. Let heaven wait. Just let you come. One touch. One touch, and my soul will break free not because it must— but because you he...
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A quiet corner in a bustling university library cafe, somewhere outside India. Late afternoon light streams through the window.  * Aru: Mid-50s. Dressed impeccably but conservatively. His face is lined, his eyes hold a deep weariness beneath a carefully controlled, almost cold exterior. He carries himself with a heavy stillness.  * Sara: Mid-50s. Looks professional, perhaps a professor. There's intelligence and strength in her eyes, but also a guardedness, a hint of old pain beneath the surface. (Aru spots Sara first. He freezes for a moment, the carefully constructed wall around him visibly cracking before reforming. He hesitates, then slowly walks towards her table where she's reading a book, a half-empty cup beside her.) Aru: (His voice is low, slightly rough, unused to this particular name) Sara? Is that… is it really you? (Sara looks up, startled. Recognition dawns slowly, then sharply. Her posture stiffens, the warmth draining from her expression, replaced by...
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Mayonnaise Jar and the Beer.......

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Mayonnaise Jar and the Beer When things in your life seem almost too much to handle, when 24 hours in a day are not enough, remember the mayonnaise jar--and the beer. A professor stood before his philosophy class and had some items in front of him. When the class began, wordlessly, he picked up a very large and empty mayonnaise jar and proceeded to fill it with golf balls. He then asked the students if the jar was full. They agreed that it was. So the professor then picked up a box of pebbles and poured them into the jar. He shook the jar lightly. The pebbles rolled into the open areas between the golf balls. He then asked the students again if the jar was full. They agreed it was. The professor next picked up a box of sand and poured it into the jar. Of course, the sand filled up everything else. He asked once more if the jar was full. The students responded with a unanimous "yes." The professor then produced two cans of beer from under the table and poured t...
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