Adam's Lonely House
© all rights reserved to Monica P 2011
Adam looked at himself in the mirror. He felt worn down to the nub. He had spent seven months in the haven life of a free man. It wore him down. He had nothing to do, no one to talk to or even look at. He had nothing but empty walls. They were growing smaller, and all he could do was wait for his manager to ring him - which is something he hadn't done in a while.
“What's the matter with the world?” Adam asked as he glared at his eyes that were a little red despite the fact that he hadn't done any drugs. “What's wrong with my singing? Why aren't they lining up?” he asked as he looked to the left, then to the right, and then down the middle where he could see a line that made a dent in his brow. “I'm wasted;” he muttered before he threw down his towel, and then moved out of the room.
Adam walked through the bedroom, and began to think about his wardrobe. He didn't need it. He had no more concerts to go to. He could throw all the old gear out. Adam whistled as he opened the cupboard, and then he glared at each and every costume. They looked like junk. They cost less then twenty-five dollars. He began to throw the worst of it out.
“This will go; so with this; and this; and this;” he muttered as he began to clear out his cupboard. “And this; and this;” he added as he continued to threw every item out. “This is a disaster!” he declared before he began to rummage and throw at a pace that made his arms into athletic symbols.
Adam pushed all his unwanted in the bin. Then he wheeled the bin to the curb. The collectors could take it in the morning. Adam smiled, and then he moved back inside. He closed the door with a kick, and then he moved to the lounge.