Going Nowhere
The book lay open on the desk, the cigarette in the ashtray still trailing smoke.
The soft murmur of the television barely covered the incessant ticking that filled the room with audible angst.
The darkened room filled with a flickering puddle of light from the movie being played.
The oasis of light from the desk lamp was the only anchor in the dry darkness that enveloped the room.
A musty aroma of age and stale cigarettes permeated the darkness with an oppressive blanket of forgotten lives.
The sudden scratching on the door coincided with a soft echoing groan. The window behind the television rattled moments after the lightning filled the room with light, briefly revealing a bookcase thick with dust.
Unnoticed, the little square phone vibrated, rattling its little tune in an urgent request for attention.