Scenario1

He had the gift of the gab. If nothing else he knew he could talk his way in and out of anything. He’d spent most part of his life talking about the most random assortment of things. His mind had the ability to jump from a conversation about birds to one about figure skating without pausing to look for a link. Sometimes he had trouble forming sentences- out of sheer lack of time to think through the next thought that was already bubbling in his head. As a kid, he’d decided he would invent a device that could record one’s thoughts without one having to say or write them out. Words always seemed to sound better in his head. Even so, he’d managed to work his way around this curious quirk of his. He always had a story hidden away in some corner of his mind, waiting to be told at the slightest enticement. People loved listening to his tales and he absolutely loved the sound of his voice.

But something strange happened on the morning of 23rd of December. He woke up with a bizarre sense of having awoken in a dream. His world seemed odd… almost like a slow motion film. He felt that his body wasn’t his own. His hands, legs, mouth, lips, toes… it was as if they belonged to someone else. He got out of bed and wandered about. Everything was in its place just as it was everyday. Tea. Newspaper. Plants. Even the ray of sunlight through the window fell at the exact same spot on the floor. And still there seemed to be something missing. Something wrong and misplaced.

What had actually happened to M was nothing out of the ordinary. The night before, as he downed his last glass of whiskey and dozed off, his thoughts, jokes, witty remarks, plans for the next day, leaked out of his head, on to the pillow, over the desk, and into oblivion. What millions wish for each day- a completely serene and blank mind- had somehow spread across and engulfed the densely meshed and complicated insides of his mind. Except M didn’t quite know what to do with this sudden slowness and listlessness he now felt inside of him. All his life, he had not for once paused to ponder over matters of such obvious routine as the amount of sugar he preferred to mix in his cup of tea.

And here he was, stirring tea with such concentration and effort as if his life depended on it, completely oblivious to his mother's gaze and uncontrollable fits of laughter. .