Television

There is a small portable television set in my room I haven’t turned on since I moved here. It’s there to fill the space. The screen collects dust and glows at night when the moon peeks through the blinds. I don’t turn it on because there is nothing worth watching. Who needs programs about cops-and-robbers or doctors? I know all about them. I don’t want to watch the news because it doesn’t affect me, or I it. The screen casts reflections. The reflections are sometimes comforting. I get to see my life in two dimensions.

Lately, I’ve been seeing Euart Monroe staring at me from inside the screen. His face is bland and pale. There is nothing sinister in his eyes. I only see curiosity and bewilderment. He doesn’t understand what has happened. He is puzzled by the intersection of our lives.

I stare at the screen for hours, and it’s always the same. Most of the time, he just watches me.

I saw him enter my room. At first, I didn’t see the bulky mattress he was carrying. I heard the door scrape against the carpet and the quiet hum of the hallway lights. I saw the mattress glide towards me. And then the blast. Why did no one hear it? It was muted, but it still bore the sound of collapsing walls, echoing like something in a cave.

OrdinaryHandsomeII

Excerpt from Ordinary Handsome. Available at http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00P46ZPA0

Free downloadable Kindle app also available.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s