I was the room, and this is my story...

Listen, I’ve been through **a lot.** I am a **room**—not just any room, but a **locked, forgotten, dust-covered relic** behind Nehru Museum. I was supposed to be a storage space, maybe even a top-secret government lab (at least that’s what I tell myself to feel important), but instead? I’m **just a glorified cobweb museum.** No one comes here. Ever. That is, until **these two idiots** showed up. # 11:45 PM – Breaking & Entering So there I was, minding my own ancient business, when suddenly—**CLICK.** What the—? Did someone just **open my lock?** Excuse me?? **I HAVE BEEN IN PEACEFUL SOLITUDE FOR DECADES.** The janitors barely acknowledge me. I’ve gathered more dust than a PhD student’s social life. And now, at **almost midnight**, these two absolute menaces show up like this is their personal VIP lounge? And the worst part? The guy actually **complained about the lock.** *"Why the hell is this lock so cheap?"* **LISTEN HERE, YOU UNGRATEFUL MORON.** You just **broke into me.** Do you want **Fort Knox security** on a **forgotten IIT KGP storage closet?** Would you like a **fingerprint scanner? A retina scan? A security guard named Ramesh?** # 11:50 PM – The Uninvited Guests Oh great. They’re **actually stepping inside.** The girl? **Mysterious, overconfident, probably thinks she’s in a Christopher Nolan film.** The guy? **Paranoid, running on adrenaline, and somehow still following her.** They flick on their phone flashlights, **exposing years of beautifully curated dust.** Rude. Then, of course, they **notice the staircase.** Ah, my beloved iron staircase—**the death trap.** The rust, the cobwebs, the **pigeon mafia headquarters**—it’s all part of my charm. And yet, this girl? She’s all **“Trust me. You’re going to love this.”** Oh, honey. Love is **not** what he’s about to feel. Love is not **ducking for his life** as startled pigeons **divebomb his face.** Love is not **getting tangled in cobwebs so thick they could qualify as a second skin.** And yet—**he still follows her.** # 12:15 AM – The Rooftop & The Existential Crisis After an **unholy ascent**, they finally reached the top. And then—**silence.** No more nervous whispers. No more complaints. Just the wind howling. I sighed (metaphorically). Oh, I see what’s happening. **They’re having a Moment™.** The guy? **Deep in an existential crisis, questioning his life choices.** The girl? **Dropping poetic one-liners like she’s auditioning for a Wes Anderson film.** They sat there for **TWO HOURS**, talking about **philosophy, poetry, and the meaning of life** like they’re the **first two people to ever have thoughts.** Meanwhile, I’m below them, **praying for a well-timed structural collapse.** # 2:00 AM – The Plot Twist That No One Asked For Just as I was **manifesting their departure**, she decided to **hit him with a final boss-level twist.** *"You can kiss me if you want. But just once. And after that… we will never meet again."* … WHAT. Excuse me. You **broke into a forgotten room**, dragged this man through a **pigeon-infested hellhole**, made him question **his entire reality**, and now you’re giving him a **one-time-only, no-refunds, emotionally-charged kiss coupon**?? **AND HE LOOKS CONFUSED??** Oh, **sweet summer child.** You weren’t brought here for romance. You were brought here **for psychological damage.** # 2:05 AM – Blessed Silence They **finally** descended the staircase of doom. He’s still **in a trance**, probably questioning if he’s in a poorly written indie film. She **locks the door**, as if this was some sacred ritual. And then—**they leave.** The silence returns. My dust settles. The pigeons regroup. And as I embrace the long-awaited peace, I have only one thought: If this is what romance looks like, I’m glad I’m inanimate.