Friday, June 15, 2012

A Ship in the Doldrums

A man hated the house that he lived in.

He hated the doors and the bathroom. He hated the windows and the kitchen. He hated the high oak cupboard in which he kept his silverware and some paperwork. He hated the couch. He hated the coffee table and the dog-eared books he put on it, between his half-drunk coffee and the ashtray.

Whenever he went to sleep, he hated his bed and turned the light off. And just before he finally lost consciousness he would hate himself for living every day in such a place.

In his dreams he would kick his house until it cried. Then he would hold it, just hold it, like the doldrums hold a stranded ship.

Just the ship and the waves. Gently rocking each other.

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