Once there was a tiger. He had no friend. No friend but one. This boy who was his playmate, one who existed parellelly with him in it's own dimension. The tiger was ignorant of the reason why he existed in the first place, and why the boy was the only one who knew of it.

But in the times that followed, the tiger forgot everything; and they played. They talked about metaphysical beings and supernatural things. It was a bond that was never to be broken. Everything seemed to be perfectly fine, in it's right place.

Then one day, the tiger saw the boy flickering. His aura fading, outlines zig zag. The tiger was worried, he was it's only friend. He tried talking to the boy, but for reason unknown the boy seemed distant. The tiger felt pain, as if something inside was melting to plasma and then to dust. The boy said faintly, "I think the pills are working."

And in a flash of realization, the tiger remembered its reason for existence. It was the boy. The boy was it's creator and it's destroyer. He was just a produ

ct of an illness. And as was fate, he was reduced to nothing.