Are you really alive?

Plato sat in his residence. He expected a hoard of relatives to come knockings on his floor. Even after days, no one had come to visit him. The only people who came to visit here were the local cops, and the bureau of Interstellar travel. Also, yes , an American had come the other day, and he was not alone, as far as Plato could remember. Was there a Japanese with the American? Or was he alone? thought Plato. His memory has been acting strange for some reason. He was becoming forgetful. Plato had visited the doctor, just the other day. The doctor had prescribed him some medicines and advised him to have one every night. But Plato being the forgetful person he had become, barely took one at night. He was 45 right around that time he returned from the Andorra, yet he felt a day older 90. The life on earth had made him wart, while the adventure on these planets had given him life. He remembered feeling like a child when he was there yonder, in the far away Galaxy.

"Some days he watered the plants in the little apartment he stayed at" and somedays he kust let the plants be. Slowly the plants withered away. He read his newspapers in the morning everyday without fail, and turned on the TV soon after. And by late afternoon he was sleeping on the couch with the TV on. The walks he took were all in the evening time. He went and picked up the groceries in the supermarket store, and often times stopped at the shop by the corner and smoked a cigarette in the chilliness. He observed the people, and what they did, and he made up stories of where they came from and where they went. And most of them he deduced were returning from their office and went to their homes. There was no one according to him that lived a slightly different life "They all lived the same". Once he concluded that the ten odd people who had passed him, did the same things . He would stub his cigarette down and walk to his home with his grocery bag.

This routine had gone on for a while. One such day, while returning to his home, he stopped by a pet shop as something had caught his eye. It was a cat, a big burlesque cat, it had a mountain of fur around it. What caught his eye was that the cat was the size of a mountain lion, well almost the size of a mountain lion. Okay , it was half the size of a mountain lion. "How much for the cat he asked" to the shopkeeper. That is not for sale sir, said the young man behind the counter. Well, why not? he asked the shopkeeper back. That is my cat, replied the young man. Well, isn't everything here yours? Plato asked him. It is my pet sir, replied the young man. Well, that is too bad , he said and walked away. He went home and sat beside the telephone and he had a piece of paper on him. He opened the paper and shut it many times like he had done in the past few days. Today, like the past few days he did not have the courage to call the number. It was the number of Andrea. He missed her ever since he arrived on Earth, and missed her a few times when he was out there in space. "She had a daughter, and she is divorced" someone had said to him earlier. Plato remembered to nodding to the statement, as he brimmed with happiness inside. The thought of reuniting with Andrea gave him happiness. And what would his daughter look like? he often wondered. What would Andrea look like now? He wondered too.

The Next Morning....

There was a knock on the door, it would have been about 10 in the morning. Plato never received a guest at this time of the hour. He kept the newspaper which he was reading on the table and went to open the door. He opened the door " It was Constantine" He greeted him in and the both men were seated down. " Sorry I have no tea " said Plato. I do have some Vodka, if it is not too early , he said to his once Protégé. Not today, said Constantine half jokingly. Can I help myself to some water? He asked his senior Courteously. Yes, of course, replied Plato. Constantine helped him to a glass of water and had himself seated down. " Glad to see you back" he said with a smile on his face. I'm glad too, replied Plato with a smile on his face. But the smile was only a Façade, there was a deep sense of regret now brewing inside Plato. Constantine knew that Plato was not his usual self and harbored some dark feelings inside that he was not yet open to talk about. "Otherwise he would have surely visited the plant" thought Constantine. In all of these days, he has not visited the plant nor given me a call. " Have you met the old man recently" asked Plato as Constantine was taken away from his own questions. Yes, a few weeks ago he visited me, replied Constantine. He seems well? asked Plato. As good as he can be , replied Constantine. " They have made me Director now, laughed Constantine. I have heard , said Plato as he leaned back on his couch.

Constantine did not talk for a few seconds, he too leaned back and looked around the apartment. "This is a fine apartment, he said to Plato. Plato nodded. And Constantine then again started to look around the apartment. Plato decided it was time to put him at ease. "You can ask me the question" he said to his compatriot.

"How was it? asked Constantine. How was it up there? he leaned towards Plato