nwrthy

The television is on but he isn’t really watching. Slumped on his sofa, his eyes a glassy blank and his right hand still barely holding on to the soda can that had long been empty. The illusion that he was in control; he knew there was nothing in the can but did not do anything about it. Instead he chose to focus on the argument that since he was still holding on to the can, there might just be something left inside. No one would be any the wiser. It was pathetic. He heard something at the door. Oh great. She was home. For a brief moment he thought that if he kept his mind blank and just forgot that he was there, he’d disappear.

‘Shouldn’t you be writing something?’

‘Hmm?’ He pretended he wasn’t listening, like he was paying attention to the TV. He tried to hide the fact that he was being useless; it was useless.

‘Don’t pretend. I know you were listening,’

‘Yeah yeah I’m taking a break, can’t you see? You know what, I think sometimes you think you’re so smart but you’re actually just really, really stupid and you wanna take it out on me,’

She pursed her lips. She looked like she was about to curse but instead:

‘You’re frustrated with yourself, DON’T take it out on me,’ and with that she went to her room.

He let out a long sigh.

‘There’s nothing good on TV anymore…’

 

An hour later he was slouched in front of the computer, ready to tap away. Just ready, not tapping away. I need inspiration, I need something to get me started. Pssht, yeah right.

 

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