Death of a Marionette
Clayton woke up with the antagonizing beep of a text message. Irked with himself for having forgotten to turn the phone silent last night, he checked the text.
‘Want to meet today. Can you?’
The first thing that struck him was the realization that it’s a Monday and he had work after work. He wanted to meet, but it was going to be quite a hectic evening. This tussle was turning into a norm since the last few Mondays and he had a feeling that it might become a reason for petty stifles. He had lost the habit of enduring demands of a lover since his previous break up. This time, he didn’t want to lose the person on such trivial issues. But Mondays are difficult these days. He had to reply,
‘Can’t make it today. You know I have work. Will meet tomorrow, please.’
He didn’t receive a reply for rest of the hour, and it stuck at the back of his mind like a stubborn fish bone.