A Male character from Preludes
Six oclock, the night fell clean and cold. As usual, Im exclusively covered in dirt and dust, from head to toe. Everyone else just about me has the same filth, same expressionless face and the same intellectual as to why I am still here. The turn of events moaned through the trees as if a million pipes played the air. Gusts move old windowpanes and sounded like spirits rushing past. Streets are empty, inactive lots inhabited by newspapers and a creature lies under(a) the rain. I can see the lights from the lamps past the windows, and beyond crank theres fine furniture. No one seems to close their curtains in this city, yet me.
I rearranged my pillows one more time, finally resting on my back in a snarl of crumpled linen. Despite my worn-out soundbox and exhausted eyes, sleep would not touch me, and the recurring questions and images tardily returned. Is this how I planned my life to be? Working apiece day with no real goal or intake? Seeing the same people everyday, being drenched in soot and dirt each time? Is this all the military man has to offer to me? The questions played in my head like a quiet melody and trailed off into the night.
I already knew morning had arrived.
The glaring light that seeps through my broken blinds, indeed I considered getting it fixed, but whats the point in fixing something that will evidently wither away? Look at those people, marching in both directions and repeating each morning, in the end well all depart in the same place. Time to grab a cup of coffee to began my yet again sorrowful life. Mrs. palm setting up her cookie stall, Mr. Melton aligning his ornaments from big to small, everyone seems so prearranged...
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