We’re All Equal

 

Meeting a patient confined by a straitjacket was strangely appealing. It was the first time my erstwhile idea of a patient in a mental institute came alive. Despite the synchrony between my mental picture and the patient in front of me, I trod cautiously. Unpredictability was the only certainty within these walls.

“Hi there! Mind if I have a word with you?”

The patient stopped pacing and turned to face me. Her eccentric braids flew and whipped her throat. The sound of a flagellant’s instrument echoed through the sombre quarters, her purple lips stretching in a sinister smile. I gulped.

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It’s Only Love

“Hi, there,” I greeted with the best smile I could manage.

“What do you want?” The words were intermixed with a sigh. The night outside the cell was intrusive, silent.

“I’m just going around visiting patients for a project, to know about the…their…um.”

“Madness,” he said turning towards me. The springy bed didn’t make any sound as he turned, doing its bit to make the room dingier.

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