The beach

Tomorrow is a holiday. That means I'm on a break from the hectic academic calendar. A short one.

I went to the beach with Guggu. Ate burgers, walked on the beach, saw footprints on the sand, felt the wind strike me ever so gently, looked at the stars, looked at waves canceling each other out, ate groundnuts, rode a motorcycle on the campus roads.

It felt good.

Jimmy

I had a pet dog. Jimmy, he was called. I killed him.
Yes. My hands are covered with his blood.
The pleasure.

I tied him to the balcony of my house.
He looked magnificent. Pure-bred. A class apart.
I took a knife. A sharp one.

Gouged his eyes out. Blood spurted from the orifice.
Beautiful brown eyes they were.
He yelped. In agony.

I broke his legs. One by one. Crushed them with a stone.
The legs on which he stood tall.
He barked. In pain. He struggled. In vain.

I cut open his stomach. I severed his head off.
A faithful dog he had been.
Jimmy could yell no more.