What is it that we all want? The paths we follow are different, but we're all guided by a feeling of desire. The desires that drive this man, however, might bring him closer to his demise. There's new definition to the phrase "follow your dreams."
Moonlight peered in through the shutters of the dark bedroom. The gleam shone over a man slumbering, sprawled across the bed. Cradled under a pillow was his left arm; the right mantled over a bundled comforter. His legs were partially concealed with one foot extended outside the remaining covers. The still air had riddled his skin with goosebumps and caused his hair to rise on end.
Periodically, he'd shutter and retract his limbs tighter for warmth. The pillow would be adjusted with one hand, while the other was allowed to hover aimlessly. Unexpectedly, a flash emitted from under his palm followed by a loud pulsing noise. His hands clenched down on a device as he awoke abruptly. He sprung up on his elbow and glared down at the smartphone through his squinted eyes.
Loren, he thought, as his face scrunched up accompanied by a faint snicker.
Leaning over to a nearby nightstand, he laid the phone down on its face. The pulsating vibrations continued on as he let the call go unanswered. He tossed the bundled up covers to the side and spun around to the edge of the bed. Along the skirt of the bed were a variety of shoes: brown plush loafers, white canvas sneakers, and black rubber sandals. He chose the latter to slip on, and proceeded sluggishly towards the bathroom.
Whilst arching his back, he lifted his arms overhead to let out a bellowing yawn. As he reached the doorway, he flipped a switch on the wall and stood before the mirror. His eyelids quickly shut as the harsh light blinded his vision. A moment passed before he slowly peeled them back open.
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He brushed his hand over the ripples in his hair shortly before patting down his goatee. The ritual continued with the extraction of crusty residue from his eyelids. As he attentively plucked at the eye dusting, he took notice of certain facial flaws. The strain in his eyes accompanied by puffy bags underneath were largely noticeable. Neither observation came as a surprise; it'd been a rather rough sequence of weeks for him. He shook the thoughts aside, deciding enough time had been spent dwelling on them.
He pulled a wash cloth from off a hanging rod aside the mirror. Turning the nob by the faucet, he ran warm water to dampen the rag. He then unfolded the cloth and spread it over his forehead. A warm sensation encumbered his face as the towel's moisture gradually seeped into his pores.
Time stood still as unsorted memories flooded into his mind . His attention led him to a moment only but a month ago. It was of him and Loren, which before their estrangement, was to be expected. They were nearly inseparable; there was no one person who put him more at ease. Their attachment extended into many facets of their lives, including their sex life. His imagination recaptured times when he'd have his face buried between her thighs. Her moans resonated loudly in his mind; saliva began to trickle from his mouth. He quickly snatched the towel from his face, wiping drool from his chin and shaking off the hallucinations.
"So much for that, huh."
Tossing the towel into a hamper aside the sink, he took his leave back into the bedroom. He walked over to the nightstand to retrieve his phone. Upon review, he noticed a voicemail had been left by Loren. With a look of disgust, he took a deep breathe before placing the phone by his ear.
