Everything is in conflict. The empty chairs lining the walls remind those of their potential to be filled. The gray wall paint only accentuates the room’s dreary atmosphere. Yet, the gray paint’s merging with the windowed overcast sky brings a calming uniformity to the room. Even the company of chairs aid in preventing the isolation from becoming too unbearable. Each atmospheric effect is both undermined and supported by the same entity; it is hard to say how one would go about “fixing” the room.
Not to mention the dimensional inconsistencies. To divulge into the spatial nonsense that is the ever-changing distance between one and the walls as they walk about the room would be ill-advised. All one needs to understand is that the effect is truly dizzying.
Having given in to the room many visits ago, Adam sits in the Offices of Gates’ Projection Services for the Externalization of Intrapersonal Communications Inc. Located (strategically?) in the South End of Boston, the Offices are approximately ten minutes by car (maybe a half-hour walking distance) from the restaurant currently serving the rest of Adam’s family. All these years and nothing much has changed.
It is October, a month which had always blasted Adam with waves of sentimentality. Through the yellow haze of fall days, Adam would feel his life slipping through his fingers. Fingers which, at the moment, were being devoured by a severe case of nail-biting addiction. Perhaps it was this longing for things not to change that always kept at the end of his nail. For his absence at the dinner table and presence in the offices were hardly unexpected. Yes, with Adam old habits died hard.