So Far Untitled

       He was restless. The nights made him so. At three he left his room for a cigarette. It would calm him like it did every night. So he rolled his menthol and was on his way. The carpet on the stairs he meandered up was badly torn, something that he had learned to ignore. The kitchen floor, with its Reagan era plastic tile had its wear as well, with gum stains reminiscent of a city sidewalk, another detail that existed long before he had begun renting. The wooden floors he passed as he exited the living room gave a whine that would have revealed his position had anyone else in the house that slept six been awake. He may have well been the last man on Earth for all he could tell, which would mirror the way he had been feeling at that time. Before he left he made sure to turn on the light which hovered directly above the car port under which he had his frequent late night cigarette.               
       The driveway was a hopeless mess as well. Garbage from roommates and frequent house guests had been allowed to pile up. He sat with his back to it, facing out into the empty parking lot that sat adjacent to what he called his home. Rain was still falling, now a daylong event, but falling slowly and almost gave the appearance of very light snow, but only a light jacket was necessary. Trees lined the simple brick fence separating the house from the asphalt to attempt to distract from the ugly sight, but they could only do so much. The streetlights shone from behind the trees causing them to glow an eerie yellow, and cast shadows in all directions.               
        He found it beautiful.               
        He covered the end of the cigarette to create shelter from the winds. It sparked to life and the smoke hit his lungs. He sank into the chair and propped his feet on a table sticky with old drinks. He took another drag and watched the smoke disappear into the night. It was cold, but in a way he enjoyed. The paper and plant burned, and all the while he attempted to slow his mind. But even drugs can only do so much. As it burned he saw another person, on the far end of the sidewalk. Someone else alone like me he thought. But as time went on a second person joined the first, and the two went on their way.               
        The tobacco had been exhausted, but he remained seated for a while, still trying to forget. Nearly twenty minutes passed before he tried to get up, but he was now exhausted too. When he had walked past the creaks, gum, and torn carpet, he stopped in his doorway and stared. He gazed upon his bed and imagined her laying there, awaiting his return. Barely conscious she’d look at him and smile, the way she always had before. Pulling aside the blanket she’d beckon him to join her, and oh that he simply could. But that smile had long since forgotten him, and the bed was his alone.