Is it a Wall?

People disbelieve me when I say that I like staying indoors most. In spite of holding lucrative jobs, I slide back to the comfort companionship of being on my own. New people do not interest me. Do not take me otherwise. I love people -- only when they wear the colours I choose to dab them with. But, to know more people, interact, nope, that is tiresome. I am content. Thoroughly. I have had my hefty share, thank you.

Having said that, in my room the other day, as I was celebrating much nonchalantly the crossing of a difficult level on my phone-game, my eyes fell on a face looking at me. From the wall. For a moment I thought it was my hallucination due to an overdose of clashing colours. I was wrong. There was indeed a face, hair smartly done, eyes not defined, but smile certainly mocking me. I made the giant effort of getting up from the floor and finding out of it were a tactile truth. It was.

I ran back to my corner on the bed and sat up to look deeper. Of course there she was. As were others around her. A flying dragon, a slaying warrior, an attacking sea-horse, a stuck kite on a swaying tree, and yes, people carrying about their daily wares rather comfortably around these -- an old man selling unknown wares on his shoulders even as the dragon's fire shun the potter's collection next to him. A sweetmeat wounding up more delicacies the taste of which lingered on to the little schoolgirls walking as they laughed over the struggling kite. 

The wall was ablaze. A planet had invaded my privacy, my sacred solitude. Music erupted from somewhere, light effects too; I put the phone away. It was ferociously fascinating, different worlds carpeted in fancy. I was reminded that I should be conscious that this was not for real. Shrugging it away, I focussed on the wall. There, she smiles. There, he walks. There, it flies. Here. Faraway.

Is it really a wall? Is it paper? Is it a wallpaper?

Mayhem rains in shades of colours I chose not to dabble.