In childhood, mercury made him happy. Thermometers were broken. Mercury was stolen from the school laboratory. The liquid silver formed beads on his table, and on his palm.
Childhood gone, mercury was forgotten.
But his temper reached mercurial heights. Mercury was in his birth chart.
The housekeeper was humiliated. Good food tasted bad.
“Can’t you serve me better food?”
“Yes sir, sure.”
Beads of perspiration trickled down.
Heart attack, said the neighbors.
Beads shone in Deepak’s pancakes.