She was a brahmin. He was a Muslim. The world was two parallel contours. Their world would never hold. They decided they would make it hold.
They would elope. They would elope when the sun rested in the pits of the ocean. They would elope tonight, when the world reprieved from their peccadillo.
The sun fled, tired of illuming the world; Tired of clearing obscurity from the sinister world.
She woke from her slumber. The frightening silence spread like gloominess in the murky night.
She soundlessly carried her bag and walked past her room. She walked past the hall, the kitchen, the prayer room. She reached the main door. She inserted the Copied keys on the rusted lock. The key declined to comply; She struggled with it again. The lock smirked disobediently, as if having a life of its own. She struggled in the darkness, sweating profusely. The key is stuck inside the old, rusty lock. It refused to open, as if conspiring against her elope.
She wondered. She stood thinking. "What would happen to him? What would be of their union, the elope, all the intended life together, as one".
She heard noises. Her father grumbled in sleep. "Would he be awake?"
She returned to her room, unsure of the future. She sobbed, waded by the bulky pillow; the darkness shadowed her emotions.
Soon it was morning. The sun spread its warmth; waking the world, reminding of its obscurity.
Her father walked hurriedly towards the door. He was late as usual; the qualms of the accustomed world apparent on his face.
He tried to open the lock. "The stupid, rusted, old lock".He cursed the lock.
The lock couldn’t stand the sturdiness of the Iron Hammer. It broke after a brief resistance. Father gave a hard stare at the worthless lock and threw it into the trash.
The lock shed its last tears; having tirelessly served his master until the very night, distraught by the ungratefulness of humanity.