I could hear words giggling to each other in the letter. What was so funny about resignation? It was not a dismissal order. It was a voluntary act. It was my decision - expression of my discontent. Two months of thoughts and informal swearing had gone into two pages of formal english. But those heartless words continued to mock me. I decided to ignore the verbal humiliation and proceeded to submit it. I went to the manager's cabin and found him dead. Funny? Is that funny? The words were rolling on the floor and laughing. The letters in the words got mixed up. The dead manager woke up to find meaningless letters assembled on white paper. He tore the paper. He turned the paper into bits and pieces. The letters lost their identity. They lost their words. Words lost their paper. It was my turn to use the floor for rolling. For laughing, of course. The manager was amused. No, he was not. He typed a letter, printed it out and gave it to me. I was formally dismissed. Words. Those same letters that were pushed into meaningless existence came back. How many letters are there in vengeance? They were counting and taking their revenge. I decided to wake up from my dream. Can i not use words and still wake up? Why do you want me to use words. Please leave me alone, take your words and leave.
