51...
Frank's eyes would only focus on fog. It took him a moment to realize that he was leaning against his window, breathing clouds against the glass. He shook his head in frustration and furiously wiped the window with the bottom of his shirt.
He shifted his focus through the glass and scanned the small strip of park, but there was no longer any sign of Tommy or his friend. He blew out a forced breath through his nostrils and managed to cloud the window once again. He thought about wiping it off and taking another look, but he knew in his gut that no matter how much he craned his neck to look, they were not going to be there.
Pushing away from the worn wood of the window frame, Frank noticed a minimalist replica of his face stained to the cold window. He stared at it for a moment and began to feel a little embarrassed by his own desperate behavior. He closed his eyes, forced himself to lengthen out the shallow breaths he was taking and thought.
"Just a guy, a friendly guy by the way, playing Frisbee in the park."
He was about to ask himself why he invented this enormous shadow conspiracy when there was no need for it, but he shook his head soundly as if letting it go.
"Seriously dude!" he said, laughing at himself. That laughter fed part of his overwrought soul and caused harder laughter.
He turned away from the window, intending to get himself a snack from the fridge. In his revelry, he managed to miss the fact that the phone cord was stretched out across the hardwood floor. He caught the cord with his foot, and every part of his body managed to leave the ground.
Frank hit the wood with the sort of insanely loud crash that knocks your jaws together and shits the air out of your lungs in a fevered stream. Frank actually saw his breath leave as it pushed a cloud of dust, hair and sloughed off skin cells before it like a ski chalet moved down a hill by an avalanche.
He lay there for a moment, just sort of mentally checking if he had seriously hurt anything. Everything hurt slightly, and his heart was beating as if he had just run a mile at breakneck speed, but he was pretty sure he was okay.
Rubbing his forehead against the soft grain of the wood floor, he began laughing again. He felt lame, he felt like he was going to be amazingly sore tomorrow, but it felt good to just lay there and laugh for minute. He turned his face to lay his cheek on the floor and just wrapped himself up in this abandon at accepting how ridiculous he was.
He was about to push himself up from the floor when something caught his eye.
He shifted his focus through the glass and scanned the small strip of park, but there was no longer any sign of Tommy or his friend. He blew out a forced breath through his nostrils and managed to cloud the window once again. He thought about wiping it off and taking another look, but he knew in his gut that no matter how much he craned his neck to look, they were not going to be there.
Pushing away from the worn wood of the window frame, Frank noticed a minimalist replica of his face stained to the cold window. He stared at it for a moment and began to feel a little embarrassed by his own desperate behavior. He closed his eyes, forced himself to lengthen out the shallow breaths he was taking and thought.
"Just a guy, a friendly guy by the way, playing Frisbee in the park."
He was about to ask himself why he invented this enormous shadow conspiracy when there was no need for it, but he shook his head soundly as if letting it go.
"Seriously dude!" he said, laughing at himself. That laughter fed part of his overwrought soul and caused harder laughter.
He turned away from the window, intending to get himself a snack from the fridge. In his revelry, he managed to miss the fact that the phone cord was stretched out across the hardwood floor. He caught the cord with his foot, and every part of his body managed to leave the ground.
Frank hit the wood with the sort of insanely loud crash that knocks your jaws together and shits the air out of your lungs in a fevered stream. Frank actually saw his breath leave as it pushed a cloud of dust, hair and sloughed off skin cells before it like a ski chalet moved down a hill by an avalanche.
He lay there for a moment, just sort of mentally checking if he had seriously hurt anything. Everything hurt slightly, and his heart was beating as if he had just run a mile at breakneck speed, but he was pretty sure he was okay.
Rubbing his forehead against the soft grain of the wood floor, he began laughing again. He felt lame, he felt like he was going to be amazingly sore tomorrow, but it felt good to just lay there and laugh for minute. He turned his face to lay his cheek on the floor and just wrapped himself up in this abandon at accepting how ridiculous he was.
He was about to push himself up from the floor when something caught his eye.
posted by P. B. Nomer | 5:22 PM
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