Saviours

HE

He fiddles with an unlit cigarette. The usual emptiness has crept in his lonely heart and spread in his house. He closes his eyes to welcome the well known feeling.

"Stop this self destruction.
Do something beautiful."

He tries to shun the voice instinctively, because he always breaks everything that tries to control him.

He can't. He puts the cigarette back in the pack like a formidable thought. His fingers play a new melody on his keyboard.

SHE

She fiddles with her pen while a blank page ruffles on wind. The familiar sadness floods her heart and it is about to drip from the nib of her pen.

"Stop this self destruction.
Write something beautiful."

She smiles to herself, closing her eyes, reminiscing the advice.

No, she won't let her pen drip the melancholy. She won't let her pages singe with grief. Her ink will smell of flowers she loves, her handwriting will embroider the pristine pages...

Such self destructive persons they both are, funny how the voice of one makes the other turn around from the edge - to meet the expectant eyes of life.

It's tough to say who is saving whom.