Frank returned home from work at 5:43. He doesn't have his own car, he has to rely on mass transit. Fuckin' buses.
He finds an old friend in his brown recliner as he meticulously rolls a zig-zag and sprinkles it with green to take the edge off from the day's work.
It's only after grabbing his black phone on the wooden night stand next to him that he realizes he hasn't talked to anyone for several days. Frank turns his phone off, then on again just to make sure that technology hasn't gotten the better of him. He's always been speculative of things like this ever since he was a kid.
He's turning 30 soon. But that's no special occasion for the phone that gives Frank the same soft glow against his glasses as it has in years past. Nothing new is happening.
Frank wants an animal...anything for companionship. But he asks himself, "what can I take care of that won't die?"...and each time he can't find the answer. That's because in Frank's mind everything dies, no matter how pure or beautiful, or important it is...everything dies.
Frank has never bought into the whole "nurturing others" idea. He has to focus on taking care of himself first, and that's day-to-day at best.
Nothing is certain. It never has been. But Frank has to get the fuck out of this apartment. Things need to change. What have his old friends been up to and why aren't they calling?
Sunday, June 19, 2011
Frank's Apartment - The Next Morning
Frank woke up in his classic brown recliner. It was a hand me down from his older brother. They used to be best friends, but they haven't talked in years.
His eyes pan from left to right in a disoriented gaze to try to find the clock on the wall. It's only 8 a.m., this is an early wake up for Frank. He tilts his head back in relief and exhales.
Is today the day he is going to change his life forever? The day he's dreamed about for so many years. He thinks he's doing well enough because he recently moved out of his parent's house. And in Frank's mind, that's quite the accomplishment. He saved thousands of dollars by living with them...thousands to buy a home...and start a family...all the shit he told them that he'd do that he never had a pure intention of actually doing. Instead he wasted a good part of the cash on weed and cheap booze.
Frank's a great liar.
He slowly straightens his black rimmed glasses on his face and runs his hand through his black hair. He smells his hand afterward...it's musty, but still not rotten enough to warrant a shower.
He has 30 minutes to get ready. It's time to punch the clock and get to his nine to five in at the office supply store that he works at as a cashier. It's enough time to fit in a shot of vodka and a wake 'n' bake. He fucking hates his job. It barely pays the bills and he stares at the clock for seven of the eight hours of the day.
But, there's this one girl who Frank thinks could be his type. Maybe he'll get the balls to talk to her today. He wonders if girls still like movies...it's been so long since he's been on a date, he doesn't even know how the hell to approach her. What would he say that could interest her?
Frank has an hour to figure it out...and if it isn't done today? There's always tomorrow...always tomorrow...
His eyes pan from left to right in a disoriented gaze to try to find the clock on the wall. It's only 8 a.m., this is an early wake up for Frank. He tilts his head back in relief and exhales.
Is today the day he is going to change his life forever? The day he's dreamed about for so many years. He thinks he's doing well enough because he recently moved out of his parent's house. And in Frank's mind, that's quite the accomplishment. He saved thousands of dollars by living with them...thousands to buy a home...and start a family...all the shit he told them that he'd do that he never had a pure intention of actually doing. Instead he wasted a good part of the cash on weed and cheap booze.
Frank's a great liar.
He slowly straightens his black rimmed glasses on his face and runs his hand through his black hair. He smells his hand afterward...it's musty, but still not rotten enough to warrant a shower.
He has 30 minutes to get ready. It's time to punch the clock and get to his nine to five in at the office supply store that he works at as a cashier. It's enough time to fit in a shot of vodka and a wake 'n' bake. He fucking hates his job. It barely pays the bills and he stares at the clock for seven of the eight hours of the day.
But, there's this one girl who Frank thinks could be his type. Maybe he'll get the balls to talk to her today. He wonders if girls still like movies...it's been so long since he's been on a date, he doesn't even know how the hell to approach her. What would he say that could interest her?
Frank has an hour to figure it out...and if it isn't done today? There's always tomorrow...always tomorrow...
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