He was wasted in his couch and was laying there with a broken bottle of rum shattered on the floor and bits of a torn newspaper. His face looked like that of a child kneeling his head on the lap of a mother despite his blood shot eyes, unkempt hair, tainted body odor.
But the room was dark as fully concealed within the impermeable curtains.
There was something odd on his couch below his forehead and looked like a heap of clothes and some utensils stacked haphazardly..
Whenever a beam of light entered through the curtain bustling in the wind, some new objects in the settings could be recognized.
The room looked like decorated for some birthday party with balloons and giant orange candies stuck with the walls.
He was continuously staring at a corner of the room with a photograph hanging of 2 persons in the frame-some lady and himself.
The door was also banging with the wind and had trails of blood on the porch side with a major chunk on newspaper lying slightly crumpled at the edges but flattened out against a mark of blood trail.
There was a coverage of some woman killed in a hit and run accident. The news reports identified the victim
as a woman carrying a orange cake but unrecognizable.
shivashishspeaks 