It’s six o’clock and the sound of keys shuffle followed by the sliding of a deadlock bolt. The door opens and walks in that man whose face is so familiar. It’s that same tired expression. It’s tired but constant as if the man himself was totally focused, or as it were, he had done the same thing day after day for several years now. He quickly fades out of view into your peripheral and into the back room.

Things are quiet save for the bubbling sound of a respirator and constant ticking of a clock, (which is no longer a sound at all considering you’ve forgotten it’s ticking, it’s presence, or even how to hear it after all those years since birth). The sporadic movements of your comrade are felt by tiny vibrations on your face. The light comes on and your surroundings glisten. You haven’t eaten all day and have long begun to wonder when your next meal would take place. Just then, he walks back into the living room and takes a seat at the couch and turns on the television. He thumbs through a couple stations then stops on the news. He rings the top of a beer with his finger then gently lifts it’s top to a soft gushing sound of gas.

The television tells of children starving in Africa and you worry about your own hunger, a hunger that is now obviously just as equally forgotten. You decide for a change of scenery and maneuver to the left and now face a green plant. It’s leaves are long and slender as though they were tentacles and sway performing it‘s eternal ambient dance. You look closely and see a small silver bead among it’s leaves and consume it at once. You leave and enter the castle door and through it’s ceiling on up to the surface.

“When are we going to eat?” A friend asks. His question takes you off guard as the two of you have been at odds for quite some time and it’s never the custom of your kind to communicate anyway. “I don’t know I was wondering the same thing,” you reply.

The man at the couch sets his beer down on the coffee table beside the couch, sits forward and lifts himself up, fists baled into the couch, and brings himself to a standing position. He leaves the room. He disappears into the dark hallway along with the soft footsteps against the carpet. A moment of silence ensues then interrupted by a toilet flush. He reemerges from the shadow in the hallway and makes his way back past you. Sound of water flows from the faucet in the kitchen followed by the opening and closing of cabinets door that hang around on the wall of the room. Anticipation ensues. Will I be fed you begin to wonder? There is no guarantee. He walks back past you and takes up his position on the couch reclining one foot on the coffee table and opens a small green back. It’s makes and crumbling sound. He reaches one hand in and pulls out a small circular object that’s very thin. He put it into his mouth and chews. A crunching sound rings off into the room that fills every gap of sound when he changes the images on the television.

You loathe your existence and the hunger in your belly is now boiling antagonistically. You look to your comrade and say you curse the day you were born and that life is not worth living. It’s a thing you never understood nor asked for you tell him. You look to the ground and put your face between the tiny green things and close your eyes. The sound of the door gets your attention and you look up. A blonde haired woman walks in and the man at the couch immediately rises to his feet. “Honey, you’re home early.”
“Yeh, I got off early today, Donna came in a little early today. How was work?”
“Ok, but really busy. Istvan, our general manager, came in today so our boss wanted all the case work files finished and ready for next Thursday’s conference.” She walks out of the room and comes back. Cabinets in the kitchen fumble again. “Did you already feed the fish?”
“Ouh, I’m totally forgot.”

Suddenly, that dark area only known by you as “heaven” opens and all it’s soft brown goodness appears at the top of your universe. You go straight in that direction and begin to devour every little piece. You eat contently only carefully avoiding your big black comrade with long whiskers.