Small Pink Elephants

 

The years of joy and amusement turned into a sincerity festival.

The sweet and charming voice called us inside, drinking hot teas and telling the numb stories. That feeled good. As if we are the ones, living none but our owns, creating own worlds. We build our cities, own rollercoasters, own ice-cream caravans...

Does it really matter, if our worlds are real or not? What is "real"?

The fire began to die down and hardly anyone could see anything. That feeled good. Our perception can't fool us, even if our brains slowly confuse. We lied to each other about the surroundings, that fade away as our past memories.

I found my wallet at my back pocket and opened it carefully. As i saw clearly, all my money had turned into small pink elephants.