Home, At Last… (Micro-Fiction)

After a long enervating day, my muscles wish to relegate into dormancy. I want them to hold on for a few more minutes, till I reach home – home, where I can be myself, where my socks can allow half their bodies to bask outside their shoe homes, where my sweat dried shirt can relax itself upon the cushioned chair facing a wall for no reason, where now familiar ants can gorge upon the remains of a chocolate bar that I shared with a beautiful soul as we walked through fading memories last night, where the kitchen sees its inventory refresh just once every month and where the basin-tap runs water for a long while, before a sleep-deprived face in the mirror rushes out of realisation and brings the flow to rest. However, uninviting my home may seem, it is the only place that does not roll its eyes on encountering what I really am within. So, once again, when my muscles ask me to rest for a while and break my journey, I call for them to prod on against the fatigue and just help me reach home, so I can relax in comfort with no fear of judgement. Tonight, it seems that the slumber in my bed would last much longer than usual. Try as much, I can’t help but go gentle into that good night…

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