A book. They say a book tells us a story, a story that otherwise we might not be able to live. It makes us travel to a world of fantasy and desires. It does so by embracing in the enigma of it’s world and covering us with the comfort of our own little space.
But what if that very book marks the end of an era? What if that book spells the end beginning of the end. What if that books puts a stopper to all that you held dear? Does a book still light up your desire? Does it still provide wind to your dreams? Or does it get reduced to a weapon of the devil? What meaning does a book hold if it becomes the last gift? Something that is a source of joy for so many, how does one react when it’s every page reeks of pain and remorse? How does one react when every page that you flip reminds of things that could have been and are not anymore? What if every syllable reminds of the moments that could have been? A book can bring so much pain.
The last gift, consuming you with memories and wants. The last gift- of pain.