Numbers

He was lying on his back, with his eyes tightly shut. 374, 375, 376…. He tried to close his eyes tighter, as if that would make the noise go away. As the night grew, he knew that the sound will only increase. He had tried fixing the tap himself. Someone said changing the washer will help. It did not. He even got a plumber to take a look at it. He was able to fix it, but only for three days. And then the noise started again. 421, 422, 423…

* * * *

He did not know when he had stopped reading the document and started counting the words. He could here the numbers thumping at the back of his head. It was like a hammer landing on his head, one blow after the next. 1047, 1048, 1049… The numbers never seemed to matter. They were just there, in the background, as if trying to remind him about something, but failing each time. He heard the phone ring. He forced himself to look away from the document. He went to pick up the phone. 8, 9, 0, 1, 2…

* * * *

“You need to relax.”

“I am trying to, doctor.” (“74, 75, …. Why did he have to wear a checked shirt today?”)

“You need to pick up a hobby or …”

(“97, 98, …”)

* * * *

742, 743, 744 … He had been counting the people on the street. Seven hundred and … He had never seen some one so beautiful in his life. She looked like a feather, before being blown away by the wind. Completely relaxed, unaware of what will happen the next second, as if she did not care. Thirty two, twenty six, thirty … He burst out laughing. He saw some one streak past him. Then he saw the cars whizzing past in the street, the people moving around him, the branches swaying in the wind, a bawling kid, the music from some body’s window.

He had to go to work. He smiled.