I set down the pen and looked around.
Crumpled paper on a dirty floor. Clean desk and a bed. Nothing else. I stood up, and made my way over to the small window, offset against my bed, where a little bit of light was shining through.
I was checking the weather, to see if it was sunny enough yet that I could go on a run. I tried to keep healthy, something that my dad had ingrained in me as a child maintaining muscle mass required constant exercise however, and a healthy diet besides. I didn't have money for a healthy diet, but as far as I was concerned, the amount of effort to do exercise and eat healthy was not worth it, so I picked one and went with the flow.
It wasn't warm enough yet so I turned back to the desk. I want you to be aware of my desk. It was made of cherry wood with two drawers on the side and a smooth, glazed top. I made sure the desk was clean and the drawers were empty. You see my dear reader, the desk was my altar of ideas. So many sacrifices brought before me on that desk, and of many, few are ever worthy. In fact, I hadn't found one yet.
Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.
My most recent piece was sitting on the center of the desk, a single sheet of lined, cheap paper. The material of the sacrifices does not matter so much as the ideas each one portrays. But this one was another failure. I grabbed and crumpled it, tossing it into the pile of broken stories on either side of the desk.
Picking up a new sheet of paper from the ground I sat back down, sitting caused the plain, thin, chair of mine to creak in protest. Laying the sheet back down I paused to look at the sheet of paper, pen ready, mind ready, and almost everything was perfect.
Then it wasn't.
I picked up the blank sheet of paper and threw it to the side, along with the other small mound of blank papers. I stood up, then walked to that small window, this time not waiting for perfect weather, this time just wondering if perfect weather could ever exist. I sighed, this time laying down on my bed. Maybe tomorrow would be perfect, but until then, I was done with today.