thoughtlet #37
The house is quiet throughout. A slight drip from upstairs can be heard, the echoing calls of crickets from across the field outside, the wind blowing vaguely through far away trees.
He is transfixed by the glow of the monitor, the only light in the entire room, the only light in the entire world. It reflects in his eyes, marred by the smoke of the cigarette trailing with the slow-moving air. The monitor shows only a single phrase. He has been staring at it for twenty minutes or more, unable to tear his eyes from it, unable to think that it could possibly be real. Not that he hasn't hoped to see the words for ten years or more, but when they happened, long after he'd forgotten the possibility existed, they shock him into silence.
The phone rings. He does not move.
He is transfixed by the glow of the monitor, the only light in the entire room, the only light in the entire world. It reflects in his eyes, marred by the smoke of the cigarette trailing with the slow-moving air. The monitor shows only a single phrase. He has been staring at it for twenty minutes or more, unable to tear his eyes from it, unable to think that it could possibly be real. Not that he hasn't hoped to see the words for ten years or more, but when they happened, long after he'd forgotten the possibility existed, they shock him into silence.
The phone rings. He does not move.