Too Much Drama Killed the Cat

He stood up and left the room. He walked with heavy feet yet every step was taken. He looked back for a moment hoping to catch one more glimpse of him. He then made his way as he picked up few treasures that reminded him of the place, that night, and yes, him. He walked to the door weakly still wishing to hear his voice asking him to stay. But it did not come. He left but not without giving in to a chance for a last glance of the place, the past year...the past.
He then drove his car, fast. He was convinced he could run away from it all. But he was wrong. He stopped and for once let go of control. He allowed the rush of tears fall down his face. He can let all the tears in his body escape but still it will not give justice to what he left behind.

I felt how it pricked me. It was nothing like an ant’s bite as they say. It was much, much subtle than that. Then I felt the sudden gush as it smoothly and surprisingly soothingly fused with the thick dark red substance as if destined to meet. It was streaming gently but with growing intensity. It had a mission and in no time victory will be claimed.

And as if it was not enough, there it was placed fragilely on a royal velvet cloth.

Shiny as it was it knew no borders. The intrusion was not a quick job. It took its time to weave through layers of skin, muscles, tissues and fat savoring every moment. Every touch of rushing rubies was taken in with great pleasure. It knows triumph is right around the corner. Every inch deeper is claimed conquest but these are trivial. It went it for the kill and it will serve its purpose.