One Day

Another Day

The sun beat down upon his face, tearing through his partially opened blinds. His arms outstretched, now squinting as he sat up. He reached forward, pushing through empty space. His gray silky sheets became quite disoriented due to a crazy nightmare. Deep down he knew it involved a very close friend of his, just couldn't put his finger on it. 

The blank, lifeless walls  of his domain were always devoid. Sighing, he finally got out of bed. He ignored his decrypted appearance, reaching for a comb to fix his hair as usual. He then stumbled into his master bathroom. It was early-yet alone. Sound had been drained from his lavish apartment, as it had been every night. His smartphone notified him it was Saturday, luckily for once a day off. He had been working long hours, as he couldn't keep track of days anymore.

Now his body was grumbling, telling him it was time to eat. Opening the fridge, not much was left in there. As of now it was some yogurt, eggs, and bag of rotting salad mix. He decided on the yogurt, slipping a silver spoon in it. Sadly, it truly wasn't what he wanted; but potable. He ate as he slipped onto the veranda like balcony. He gazed up at the unearthly cotton like balls in the sky. They moved from place to place, unrestricted by Earth's limitations.  It would be euphoric life to float near the heavens. Transfixed for another minute, as they darted in and out of his vision. His warm brown eyes felt tired. The flaring God was about to greet him, reborn again. It's holiness he didn't appreciate. As it would force him to relinquish his grasp on his own idols. 

Ripping his eyes away, he slipped back inside. Glancing at the damned antagonism of his personality, he felt sick. He truly did not hate the TV, yet loathed the addiction it somehow left in it's wake. He truly did not care what was happening in other countries and states. Nor did not care of thousands of people being shot. Those lives were not his own. He never met anyone in his forty-five plus years of his life, never meeting anyone who followed their life outside the boundaries of his own existence.  

It wasn't a normal day, it was September 11th. A day of an 'anniversary'. A day were they should kept remembering. This ideology disgusted him. He truly did not need to remember this day. He wished this trend never existed. 

Now dusk, he got dressed in his finest casual fancy clothes. Him and his driver were both in silence. The candle of the God's seemed to be waiting for him, as night began for an eternity. The warm candle wax poured over his body as he a minced at his own preordained destination. 

Stepping out of his transport, his feet hit the cold hard asphalt. He couldn't feel or see how his eyes were taking this onslaught of emotions. This was another day, he was forced to believe. Standing before a plaque like rock that twisted his life. He couldn't utter a single word, nobody could. He was forced to deport as soon as the Creator would soon blow out his majestic candle. He walked away solemnly, as he was alone for another year. 

(A/N: Wanted to try something new with Seth Macfarlane, and his life. I don't think I pulled it off as I thought I did. Thank you for the support.)