The Truth has three fingers

So this starts at when I decide I have had my share of this city and its time to move. And let some other collegiate come to Bombay and pass on the 350 square feet that I was holding occupied.

And so going backward, things seem odd and head a little drowsy, steps are unsure and you never know who you're going to be stumbling your arse into or onto for that reason.

So a friend got married, on one of those very pressurized situations that the family insisted and the uncle wanted to see his kids only before he suddenly decided he had a feeling he was going to die and the stars said go! and the wedding planner said the hall was vacant. He didn't say or invite. Now unsure of what should matter more, I settle for the materialistic one, the fact that he saved 500 bucks on a plate of bland gujju food and didn't invite. Men. Or food. Something. Alien.

So another friend, forgets I exist. Now, you see all the signs say that its time.
Or I would like to think so. Or believe so. Whichever sounds more politically correct. Alien again, the feeling is. It exists, but I just don't have its slimy tentacle to place on it.

So I'm sitting in the house while the fire crackles in the fireplace placed so exquisitely under the mantelpiece placed above the fire, in my head. Just when the thought occurs to me of that night, the one that was crazy, unreal, impromptu, romantic and totally a dream, just as it was, except deliberate.

So, this is my fourth not-so-difficult attempt at beginning my paragraph with a "So" reminding me again, not much changes, the fire still crackled. The weather was warm, sullen a little, and a little under what it should be, making it a little dark. When I thought, why must O not be able to find that guy? What was it, was it his non existence that made it hard or was it just life that was holding him back for the right moment. Moments like these you feel he's around. All eerie in a way, but he's out there, just like the truth. In slithery shapes, incomprehensible banter and has three very vaguely parted fingers, leaving him incapable of eating with chopsticks. Existent but apparently not. But very truth-like...

Until something happened, something moved inside, (having forcibly broken the "So" at the start of the paragraph). The search for the three fingered man was to begin, and sooner than I thought...