The duration of the man’s life was futile, well for him it was. The curtains dropped and cascaded over his life’s purpose, forcing him to live in solitude. He lived in a fashionable, yet small town. He took long walks to occupy his time, waiting for the day that he won’t have any time left. The occupation of his soul was to maintain his posture, to at least look recognizable to the others. He worked as a journalist, but never reported on the well being of himself. He kept to himself, working to just do his job. The buildings he worked around were bright, but run down. The paint chipped and the lights would tinker on and off. He would never realize what the purpose of the buildings was. They were always in sight through the long strip of a window in front of his desk. They reminded him of himself. Not really making any progress in life, hollow on the inside, and on the outside it was showing it’s weariness. “I’m tired of life,” he would frequently state towards the direction of Sydney, who worked right next to him. She would always remark “why did you get up this morning then?” He would always be stumped by this response. The statement always froze him. Why did he get up this morning? Why even keep going? The boss would always have one eye on him at all times. It was especially uncomfortable for the man when his boss would stare at him from his office space. He would have the blinds raised halfway and he would be leaning back in the chair by his desk, gnawing on his pen, not letting a minute go by without recording every movement he took. This time the man observed he was doing something for once. The boss was hunched over his desk. “Did you catch the game last night?” “No, I didn’t. You know I’m not into sports.” A large bang was heard from the boss’s office. When he turned towards that direction again, he couldn’t see what had occurred because a crowd had ensued. When he had gotten up to get a better look at it, another bang was heard and the lights had gone out.
“We have to go.” The man whispered to Sydney in the dark room. Many phone calls were heard, shouting and other chaos ensued, but the man had in his mind blocked these sounds out somehow. “Now. We must go now.” A flame burst out and the crowd of people began to fall. He could see the boss now. The sight horrified him, as did Sydney as well. The boss was set over his desk, the gushing liquid of life had escaped from his neck and spilt over the desk and onto the floor. His face was disfigured and the glasses he wore crushed upon the floor. This sight was ingrained in his head, but the man gripped Sydney’s hand tighter and tugged her out the door, through the lobby and out the door to the chaos outside. Buildings were falling, people scurried to find their loved ones, dogs barked, and rioters fought. The man followed the busy traffic that seemed to be going somewhere safe. “Where are we going?” Sydney asked. “Somewhere not here.”