Fiction : Natraj HB Pencil With Pink Eraser

The realisation of being gay is like being 12 and writing something forbidden with a Nataraj HB Pencil with its pink eraser. What a concept – a complete package – a pencil AND an eraser! Two bodies meld into one existence. What more do you need in life?

But, I have this forbidden thing written on my pristine white page now. What if the teacher sees it? What if a friend sees it? What if he finds out and she finds out and they all find out? So, I decide to put the pink eraser to use. Reality is subjective – if no one finds out, it doesn’t exist.

So, I went to a bar the other night, and met this guy. He had stubble. Not the kind that’s kept on purpose, but the kind that’s straggly, like he forgot to shave for a week. I don’t remember much else… Oh yeah, he had a Darth Vader wall decal in his bedroom. It read, “The dark force” in a huge font.

And then another night, I met this guy from Cambodia. He didn’t have any wall decals.

Harder and harder – I rub in vain. This pink eraser is unavailing! The lead on paper smudges like the mascara on my face. But it just won’t go away. Black letters peep through the blotch like a disgraceful visage through a veil.

Lines of cocaine and LSD trips, but I still wake up to my reality. One last try, I think, and I try with all my might. But the page tears.

It didn’t hurt much. Blood flowed and I passed out.

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Loves exchanging stories over perfectly brewed pour over coffee or fine vino. Ponders about "Sonder" (yes, google it) An absolute Francophile. Hates multitasking. Loves ink pens, music jams and exclamation points! (Oh! and parentheses) Brains = Sexy

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