It was a nice morning which was spoiled by the smell of chemicals in the school chemistry lab. As an irony, the students were taking theoretical notes from the teacher’s board in the “practical lab”. Sabal was standing alone owning the whole bench and smelling the mixed smell of chemicals kept in the shelves dividing his bench with the one where three girls stood. He was diligently copying everything like it was some formula to rescue the dying world. He was unaware of his classmate Miss J presence on the other side of the shelves. Among the three girls she was the one having some dire and mysterious plan. She suddenly came out of the blue and appeared on the canvas of otherwise colorless life of Sabal and started painting with her soothing voice. She stood besides him as close as pedants by their books.
She started copying the notes from his and Sabal was awestruck but controlled himself. And he was able to, due to his commitment to another closed door he was looking for several months that never opened. Here there was an open invitation of an open door literally but he was stung by someone else. Not sure if it is a human tendency or stupidity to ignore the signs of an open door but looking constantly on a closed one all through the time and feeling resented ultimately. At the end the thought of those small or sometimes strong signals giving clue to an open door looks meaningful and the clouds of regrets come enshrouding the subject.