he unable to bear the emotional pain became sick and got bedridden for some time in his home , but while healing the wounds in his heart he also took sometime out to analyse his fault , scrutinising himself he realized that it was nothing else but his "uncle scrooge" attitude which left a deep scar on his mind ,heart and his soul and all this for mere bunch of paper notes which are necessary but according to the needs only , juxtaposing his life , mental peace , to the transitory pleasure of having money/gold which was purely ephemeral he understood the value of life more so a peaceful life ,he then decided to mend his ways and set himself on the right path

by the passage of time he became healthy and started going to work and slowly he became the most happy man in the town ,he was lucky enough to get time to fix the problem but everybody else is not so we have to know and realize that mundane things are always mundane and real things are always real .  

MORAL OF THE STORY : make distinction between real and irrational things before time runs out .

The Man on the Stairs

It was a tiny sound but it woke me up because it was a human sound. I heldmy breath and it happened again, then again; it was footsteps on the stairs. I triedto whisper,

There's someone coming up the stairs,

 but my breath was cowering, Icouldn't shape it. I squeezed e!in's wrist in pulsing units, three pulses, then twopulses, then three pulses. I was trying to in!ent a physical language that could enterhis sleep. "ut after a while I realized I wasn't e!en squeezing his wrist, I was #ustpulsing the air.$hat's how scared I was; I was squeezing air. %nd still the soundcontinued, the man coming up the stairs. &e was walking up in the slowest possibleway. &e had all the time in the world for this, my god did he ha!e time. I ha!e ne!ertaken such care with anything. $hat is my problem with life, I #ust rush through it,like I'm being chased. !en things whose whole point is slowness, like drinkingrela(ing tea.)hen I drink rela(ing tea I suck it down like I'm in a contest for whocan drink rela(ing tea the quickest. *r if I'm in a hot tub with some other people andwe're all looking up at the stars, I'll be the first to say

It's so beautiful here.

 I onlysay it because I know it has to be said and I'm trying to hurry the e(perience along.$he sooner you say

It's so beautiful here

 the quicker you can say

Wow, I'm gettingoverheated.

$he man on the stairs was the total opposite of me, his thing was

How longcan I make this last? 

 &e was taking so long that I would forget the danger for wholemoments at a time, and almost slip back in to sleep, only to be woken up by himshifting his weight. I was going to die and it was taking so long. I stopped trying towake e!in up because I was worried that he would make some sound upon waking,like he might say )hat. *r )hat honey.$he man on the stairs would hear this andknow how !ulnerable we were. &e would know my boyfriend called me &oney. &emight e!en hear my boyfriend's slight annoyance, his e(haustion after our fight lastnight.)e both fantasize about other people when we're ha!ing se(, but he likes totell me who the other people are, and I don't.)hy should I+ It's my own pri!atebusiness. It's not my fault that he gets off on ha!ing me know. &e likes to report itthe second after he cums, like a cat presenting the gift of a dead bird. I ne!er askedfor it.I didn't want the man on the stairs knowing these things about us. "ut hewould know.$he second he threw on the lights and pulled out his gun, or his knife,or his rope, or his hea!y rock, the second he held the gun at my head, or the knifeat my heart or the rope around my neck or the hea!y rock o!er my chest, he wouldknow. &e would see it in my boyfriend's eyes

You can have her, ust let melive.

 %nd in my eyes he would see the words

I never reall! knew true love.

 )ouldhe empathize with us+ -oes he know what it's like+ Most people do. ou always feellike you are the only one in the world, like e!eryone else is #ust crazy for each other,but it's not true. /enerally, people don't like each other !ery much. %nd that goesfor friends too. 0ometimes I lay in bed trying to decide which of my friends I reallycare about and I always come to the same conclusion 1one of them. I thoughtthese were #ust my starter friends and the real ones would come along later. "utno.$hese are my real friends. $hey are people with #obs in their field of interest. Myoldest friend, Marilyn, lo!es to sing and she is head of enrollment at a prestigiousmusic school. It's a good #ob, but not as good as #ust opening your mouth andsinging. 2a. I always thought I would be friends with a professional singer. % #azzsinger. % best friend who is a #azz singer and a reckless but safe dri!er. $hat is morewhat I pictured for myself. I also imagined friends who adored me.$hese friendsthink I'm a drag. I fantasize about starting o!er and eliminating the thin film ofdragginess that hangs o!er me. I think I ha!e a handle on it now. $here are threemain things that make me a dragI ne!er return phone calls.I am falsely modest.I ha!e a disproportionate amount of guilt about these twothings and it is unpleasant to be around.

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