Drip Drip Drip

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Other  |  House: Booksie Classic
A man's life starts to slide down hill after losing his job...

Submitted: October 21, 2018

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Submitted: October 21, 2018

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“Drip, Drip, Drip”

 

Drip,

Drip,

Drip,

the kitchen sink’s

nonstop

continual beat

amplified

by an overturned

pan

that was last

used

to make something

with eggs in it,

he just lay

there

undecided

as to which

annoyed

him more

having to get

up

from his

lived in spot

on the sofa

or that unchanging

tone

resonating through

the burnt on

eggs

making him wonder

if the pan

would sound different

clean,

he had already

slept through the

best part of

the morning

taking a nap

less than an

hour after getting

up

in the same

spot

he first sat

down in,

he tilts his

head

which is laying

on the armrest

of the sofa

he can see

the sun spilling

into the room

through a large

picture window

inching it’s way

closer

to his darkened

corner

wishing he could

fall asleep again

before the sun

over runs his

location

forcing him to

make a decision

about what he

was going to

do

with the rest

of the day

a question

he would prefer

just to avoid

altogether,

he returns his

head

to its previous

position

looking straight up

at a bumpy

white ceiling

a view

he has grown

to love

over the last

three months

one he began

getting familiar

with

a week after

losing his job,

cut backs

they told him

as they handed

him

a cardboard box

before escorting

him

to the parking

garage

down below,

that first week

was like a vacation

before the foothold

he had in

reality

began to slip

the little details

of life

became optional

shaving was the

first to go

a new look

he always wanted

to test out

he tried to

convince himself,

but as leaving

the house

and eating

joined the list

he gave up

wasting time

on arguments

as to their

importance

to him

as he did

with the other

things

as they dropped

from their place

in his day

to day

rotation

none of which

he really seemed

to miss

all that much,

he tries to

summon the

strength

to sit up

his muscles

tired

and lethargic

rarely being called

a pond

to do more

than

walk from room

to room,

he gets to a

sitting position

rocks his body

back and forth

using his momentum

to help him

get to his

feet

he walks over

to the kitchen

sink

grabs a gallon

size

Ziploc baggie

and ties it

around

the neck of

the faucet

with a rubber

band

from one of

the many

unread newspapers

piled up

nearby

the back round

bass sound

of the water

hitting the pan

fades from the

stillness

of the room,

he watches the

drip

as it slides

down the side

of the plastic

bag

collecting in it’s

lowest corner

he double checks

his work

before going over

to the big

picture window

and closing the

drapes,

he lowers himself

back down

onto the sofa

his head

once again

looking straight

up,

as he stares

at the bumpy

white ceiling

praying for

some kind of

escape,

from just another

day…

Tom Allen…10-13-2018…


© Copyright 2018 Tom Allen714. All rights reserved.

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