Song
After a long day at a job doing something that was hard to remember when he wasn’t doing it, a man arrived home where he unlocked his door, went inside and locked the door behind him.
In the half-darkness, dropping his keys into the tray on the end table next to the door, he found himself humming a song.
Suddenly — almost excited — he realized that he must have heard this song at work today. He thought perhaps if he thought hard enough about that song, it would help him remember what he did at that job. He dreamed of all the things this would provide for him — something to talk about with others at the grocery outside his apartment building, on the street or the subway on his way to and from anywhere, something to say to his mother during those long weekend calls, a thing to think about when there was nothing else to do, and so much more.
He paced excitedly in the now darkness, occasionally bumping into things. Then, at a place where he thought there was a chair, in a space he thought was his living room, he decided to sit down so he could focus on the song and then — he hoped — his job. Feeling around, he found something that felt sort of like a chair and he sat. He fumbled around his jacket pocket and found a pen, but not finding something to write on, he thought he could just write on his hand. He leaned back, opened the pen and slowly pulled his hand out in front of him, ready.
And then, he realized he wasn’t humming the song anymore.
