Past Showtime

The End.
Just as you are thrust out of the imaginative world, you feel the urge to run. Everyone is moving towards the doors at the corner with red neon board atop them saying ‘exit.’ You sleepily put your coat on, check your pockets, your seat and walk to the car park, the movie still in your head. Pulling your mind back into senses, you begin looking for your car among hundreds while your standing a few cars away from it. You check your watch before starting your car. You keep driving. Home is a good drive away. You look back. Kids asleep in the backseat. Wife dozing off too. But you have something to ask about the movie. It keeps bothering you from driving, and is eating into your sleep that’s waiting to engulf just as you reach home.
The roads are deserted. You ease your foot on the gas pedal and sit back, gazing blankly through the windshield as gloomy street lights zoom past you. Shops and malls all closed. Darkness covering all the billboards.
You finally reach home and drive in. You don’t really have to wake them up. They mechanically step out of the car and walk like zombies while you unlock and let them in. Your throat’s buring with all the conditioned dry air in the hall. After having some water, you hit the bed and switch that intelligently crafted little lamp beside your bed off.
Why do we watch films?
Sumanth
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