pg 48


December 6, 2011, 2:10 am
Filed under: Uncategorized

The store where he buys his cigarettes is only a block away. Closer once walked than it seems when he assesses his lungs’ desire from the front porch. His socks are turned inside out and his journal is filled with pages and pages of regrets. Back from the store he is on his front porch. The house was built over a hundred years ago, the oldest house he’s ever lived in, and from the street it looks like a house filled with love. It looks like this inside the house too.

He was a man with a beard, is now a man with a child’s face. He comes in the house from the rain and kicks off his wet shoes onto the pile of mismatched other ones. He sees that one of his housemates has fastened hooks for the family jackets above this pile and appreciates the work of others both know and unknown to him. It makes him feel a part of something hanging up his coat and he wonders if the jacket, army green, will be dry by the morning.

He looks in the mirror as he brushes his teeth and is startled to see the dark circles under his eyes. He thinks that maybe it is the light of the bathroom bouncing off the sink and goes to the mirror in the front hall but finds the same results. He vows to quit everything and then gets into bed, forgetting to shut his bedroom door and turn off the light so he has to get back out of bed, cursing himself for being so stupid. He starts to cry but the tears never come. He falls asleep. He goes fishing by himself in his dreams and catches a big one but it doesn’t matter because he won’t be able to bring the pride of it back to his waking life.

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