To the man on the moon.
'Are you happy with your life?', I ask him, taking precarious measures to make sure he would not lie. Sometimes people can be so cruel, they know exactly where it hurts and yet make sure they don't miss the spot. He loves happiness but he is committed to peace. He pretended the words of his son were only met with indifference, but when you see him writing down the fight they had in his small diary with tears in his eyes, my heart falls apart. When he denies being tired after work, but see him snoring away his off-day when he's usually chirpier during that time of the day, my heart falls apart. When she teases him for crying for all the silly reasons, I smile but when I see that he doesn't smile back, my heart breaks. You know, there is nothing I won't do for that man. Startled by my sudden appearance, he prepares to throw away the cigarette he had just burned. "Don't. It's fine. But tell me, are you happy with your life?", I ask again, a