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“I take out the skeletons and you fill it with corpses, I am the Janitor and you the Metropolis.” The air was stale inside the room that he found himself in that fateful evening. A story starts with a familiarity that can only impart the notion of repetitiveness abusing the reader’s senseof decisiveness.Should I read on or shall I be gone? Confusion has been born before the break of dawn. The windows were the same squared designs letting in the lines of light, which did ignite the colour pigments of his skin. He walked in front of the mirror, the only door, wondering if there was any point in it anymore. The broom in his hand and a task so bland and so bleak that it made him believe it was unnecessary and as he waged his war on the weak. “There would be days when I could feel, the coming of the end of this reel.” That fateful day however, walked in a man, shaded in the white scalp of age, he did come unwittingly into the cage. “Do you know what you’re doing here old man?” “Nor I neither you.” “What is this, a riddle in a can?” “I’m here to see you through.” “You walked in through the door.” “I could not take it any more.” “There is a whole world trapped outside the walls” “Aye, I too do hear its calls” “Yet now you believe its time to chase your shadow?” “Nay, Its time to walk out of this hollow…” “Remember – at one point you too walked under a sky so blue” “I do, and you?” “Stop. You don’t understand what its like. The world out there is full of spite” “I’m not sure if I should be the memory, cast aside to reflect upon ever so meekly.” “When we were young, now too old…” “However did your confidence get so cold? I was digging a grave that was meant for me, But perhaps that is where you should be.” And for a childish while, the Janitor did smile as the light bore into the darkness – dissolving eternity in its bliss. There were no windows, no doors, and no black bricks; for the man who walked did not know any of these tricks.

The Janitor