It's A Wonderful Life
It’s a cold Saturday evening, I’d say cool, but cold had it not been for this warm woolen jacket that I’m wearing.The room smells of vanilla, while ‘It’s a wonderful life’ is playing on the television. I can’t seem to remember the sources of both the fragrance and the film. How is the movie even on television? Hadn’t I just watched it in a theatre, the day before? As I make a futile attempt to join pieces of my memory, somebody knocks on the door. I walk to the door, switching the television off, but find myself staring at the doorknob instead. Knock. Then, I quietly open the door. I find a man in haggard attire, maybe in his late forties, standing outside, with some magazines and a laptop in his hands and a badge, saying ‘VISITOR’ around his neck. He cheerfully smiles at me and the expression on his face clearly demands one in return. “May I know who you are?” I ask courteously. “I’ve got some stories for you.” He replies, without the slightest offence taken and ca...