There is nothing unusual about Max's life.
Nothing strange happens.
He has everything he needs.
He is alone, but that is okay, he has routine.
Max is fine.
Note: All art is human made, no AI is used.
Fogged light streamed through the windows of Max's small apartment illuminating grey walls and muted carpets.
The sound of the seventh alarm set for 7pm lifted Max's eyes.
The first thing he saw were the shapes in the paint of his matte white ceiling:
A silhouette of a giraffe,
of a turtle,
of a fox,
of a bat,
the menagerie of painted animals played against Max's tired eyes.
"Good morning, animals."
Said Max to the ceiling, before he shuffled out of bed and to the bathroom, forgetting his phone.
Max noticed the bags under his eyes ran a little deeper than the year before.
He noticed his dark hair had little flecks of grey.
Max noticed his skin had been kissed by time.
Max didn't often notice himself, even when he brushed his teeth; but today, he did, even though today was just like every other.
He took a deep breath, and went to his closet, where he picked out his outfit.
Max didn't really like work clothes, so he didn't wear them. It wasn't like there was anyone left to wear them for, anyway.
Most of his department had been laid off over the last couple years.
Max picked out his favorite hoodie: washed cotton, worn in just the right places, with a small green turtle embroidered in the middle. The turtle was a little frayed at the edges,
he had been kissed by time, too.
Max touched the little turtle, feeling the soft threads against his finger tips, and went to the kitchen.
He pressed the button on his kettle, and listened to the jingle of the coffee crystals as he poured them into his cup. The nostalgic smell filled the room as hot water hit ceramic.
Max took another deep breath.
There wasn't much in his apartment:
an un-used couch,
a barstool for the kitchen counter,
a heart shaped succulent,
and that was it.
Max had moved so many times, that he had stopped unpacking; and eventually, he stopped keeping things in general.
Occasionally, he'd think of hanging the family photos on the wall.
He'd think about his mother's face, beaming at him from the glossy canvas when he'd return home,
but
each time he went to open the box he'd put the scissors down, put the box back on the shelf, and busy himself with something else.
Max thought about it again this morning, when he watched the sun peek over the apartment buildings, and felt the bitterness of cheap coffee on his tongue.
He checked the time,
7:37pm
it was time to go to work.
Maybe, he would think of the photos and his family, later.
Max put the cup down, grabbed his coat, and went to the door.
The drive to work was the same as it always was.
There weren't many people on the road, these days. Not where Max lived. His company liked large, cheap areas without many people. Most of the people in town had been employees of Max's company.
Those people were gone.
A lot of the people said they were, "going back home."
Max didn't know where he'd go if he got fired.
He supposed he'd stay, or find another company to go to in another place.
Max didn't like to think about it, so Max turned on the radio.
A quiet love song found its way over the waves.
Max enjoyed love songs, but he didn't really understand them.
Max had never been in love.
Well, maybe once. Max was in the 6th grade when he'd found himself picking flowers for his best friend. A collections of dandelions and honey suckles. Though the face of his friend had blurred, he still remembered the smile as the flowers were gleefully snatched from his hands.
Max couldn't remember what had happened to his friend. Then again, Max couldn't remember a lot of things.
The morning mist was thick, and Max quickly discarded the unsettling gap in his consciousness to focus on the road.
the street lights looked like sunbursts when the fog rolled in.
Static crept over the radio.
Max quickly turned it off.
What was left of the sun had burned off most of the fog by the time Max found his way into his usual spot in the parking lot.
The crows babbled and chattered at Max as he got out of the car.
He smiled,
It was a good sign when the birds talked.
Max took another deep breath, and set off across the parking lot.
He scanned his key card, hearing the digital latch snap, and opened the door to his office.
#
Max took a picture of some crows. He thought about sharing it, but wasn't sure who he could send them to. That was okay, he liked keeping pictures, even if he had no one to share them with.
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