Inachevé

Twenty-three - EAT

Neatly folded in an open drawer, lay a button down shirt, several shades of khaki pants, and at least a dozen leather belts rolled up and tucked tightly between the surrounding apparel. A hand reached out to close the drawer, but before doing so, the white flash of camera lit up the clothes and the sharp crack of the flash's sound effect broke the silence. The drawer closed and the drawer beneath was pulled open. In this one, various shoeboxes sat abreast, leaving no room in between for spaces. Another flash brightened up the objects and the drawer was shut by a firm hand.

The camera was brought underneath the cool blue eyes, lined with ashen lashes that studied it long enough for the viewer's mind to memorize the image. A finger popped up from behind the device and tapped the power button off. The camera was sent sliding into a pocket and the man hurried for the bedroom door. Before exiting, he stopped and smoothed his closely shaven blonde hair and then left the room. He grabbed his computer bag on the way out and aimed for the front door. His feet came to a stuttering halt and, upon passing the dining room, he whipped out his camera and took a quick snapshot of the table and the furniture surrounding it.

The man pursed his lips in satisfaction and unlocked the front door. He backed out, sorting through his keys as he did. When he came upon the house key, he stuck it into the door and turned the lock. He jiggled the knob to make sure he had secured the entrance and sprinted to his car. He turned once more to the house and examined the positioning of the curtains in the window; the angle of the garbage cans in front of the garage door; and the way the latch to the front gate laid. It was down. He ducked down into his car and flipped on the ignition. 

In a methodical voice, he reiterated to himself, "Back door closed? Yes. Dog in the crate? Yes. Refrigerator closed?" he bit his lip and his mind scrambled for the mental picture. A fist tightened in irritation and he pulled over on the side of the road. He reached into his pocket and pulled out of his camera. He scrolled through the photos until he came upon his marble kitchen.  A relieved sigh came from his lips as he saw the fridge door sealed. “Refrigerator is closed." He tossed the camera into the passenger seat and entered the streets again.

==

The sunlight shimmered through the windshield and the bright summer foliage whirled passed him like a scenery painted with a smearing brush. The streets were clear as they usually were on an early Monday morning in the suburbs. The black Dodge Challenger whipped around the country curbs as the driver sorted, one-handily, the objects stashed in his cup holder. He tossed wrappers in the small trash bag and separated the electronics from the loose change. 

His foot pressed on the brake as he struggled with a runaway coin. A rise of irritation stirred his insides up so much that he pulled over and parked his car. He reached down underneath the cup holder and patted the ground in search of the quarter. When his fingers had found it, he picked it up gingerly and then threw it in the cup holder that held all his change. His chest fell in contentment and a hand passed over the front of his shirt. 

His brows creased and he passed his hand over his shirt again. A shock of forgetfulness came upon him and he began twisting and turning in desperate attempt to find an object he believed he had brought with him. He reached over to his computer bag in the seat beside him and unzipped the smallest pouch. His hand dove inside and rummaged around for a moment until he came upon a thin plastic card. He snatched it and jerked his hand out, getting it entangled in the shoulder strap on the way out. He shook off the interruption and turned the card over, ending his search. 

 

 

"Prospect Technology and Engineering