The monitor flickered, headset summoning clamouring sirens into his existence. A ballet of banality ensued, each reaction scripted, monitored.
Then a hiatus, sandwiches wrapped in cellophane and instant coffee.
He once dreamed of being a writer.
Now he lurked in isolation, constructing reassuring mantras.
Dreaming of sandwiches wrapped in cellophane.
Image Ronin wrote this story.
I woke up at seven
My face already shaven
For breakfast coffee or tea
Ready to be me
Walking down the street
Nobody to meet
Doubtful like Hamlet
Hands in my pockets
How to be alone
Curiously I want to know
Now I’m getting home
To finish this sad show.
Virginio is an Italian student of English language. He likes writing stories in English and sometimes playing with rhymes.
“What are you making today, Geraldo?”
“My friend, I have many creations! Witness my self-baking bread, and these gingerbread men dance and sing! Marvelous, no?”
“Truly, but all I wish for are some buns to eat with my soup.”
“How sad,” said Geraldo, “that we live in such a world.”
This story is based on a title suggested by @Zutzy.