part of a story

A boy sits at a computer. He stars blankly at the screen letting his eyes criss-cross in and out of focus. When the screen goes blurry he sees the electrons dancing before him. The boy clicks back into reality every few minutes after having chased down his lost thoughts.

He spits at the screen in disgust. A slimy yellowish-green goober the color of ripe avocadoes drizzles down the screen hanging languidly from the bottom of the monitor. The rain continues to crackle against the window and the neighbor’s dog howls at every lightning crash. His irritation manifested by the crease in his brow and the moistness accumulating under his arms. Unable to focus he closes his eyes, tilts his head back and takes a deep breath. His fingers once again begin to dance on the keyboard, his eyes darting back and forth across the screen. A thunderous explosion in the sky, and…pop…he sits in darkness.

The boy stands up slowly pushing the chair backward. The foot ends emit howls of torture as they slide across the tile floor. Seemingly unphased by his lost work, he sets out to find his raincoat and shoes. He opens the front door stepping into the black swirling winds of Zeus’s performance. His head is hung low and he digs deep into his pockets unearthing a battered pack of cigarettes. Matchless, he sucks the cool moist air through the unlit cigarette and ambles over to the tramp on the corner. The old man battered by experience offers a light in exchange for a smoke.