His eyes flitted open as early morning light seeped through the curtains.
Swinging his legs over the arm of the love seat, he rested his feet on the carpeted floor.
It had been an off-white. Now, it was more of a filthy gray.
Boxes filled with life’s accumulations stared back at him.
Springs creaked as he pulled himself from the cushions and slunk off into the kitchen.
Pale fluorescent light revealed the two items in the fridge: a bag of carrots and a half-can of beer.
He reached for the can.
A Post-It on the fridge caught his eye:
APPLIANCES
8:30AM, TUES
He took in the curves of each letter, each stroke so precise.
He could barely read his own writing.
He pretended not to hear the phone at first. After the seventh ring he yanked it off the wall.
Yeah?
I’m surprised you’re awake after last night.
He glanced at the empty bottles in the sink. The floor was broken glass lined with cheap linoleum.
I’m taking the rings to the pawn.
Like hell you are.
I didn’t say I wanted your money, I’ll wire you.
His head felt like it might explode.
Can we just talk about this?
That was last night, remember? I think we’ve exhausted that one, eh?
Heat flashed across his face.
Listen, don’t pull that trick on me. I’m not in the mood.
Don’t look now, but you’re starting to sound like dear old dad!
The laughter from the receiver echoed in the empty apartment. His grip tightened.
That’s enough.
Laughter continued. A murder of crows stalking a wounded predator.
The cage opened.
Afterward, he smiled with satisfaction.
The line was silent.
He picked at a scab on his forearm. The floor creaked as he shifted his bulk.
Lorraine?
Her tone shook him.
I’ll be by for my things on Tuesday.
Phones went back to receivers.
He collapsed into a chair.
Maybe he should reschedule the delivery.
There might be a blowout.
Accusing eyes across the hall, peeping from behind locked doors.
He took a sip from the can and massaged his temples.
