A Basketball Game On The Linoleum Floor Essay
I’m not going to open my eyes either.The view here isn’t great. Even with the blinds drawn this place is a pit. Old, stained floors. Faded turquoise paint on the walls. A television with more snowflakes than a blizzard on the screen is my only source of entertainment. I think I left a basketball game on. Not that I care about it.
I don’t give a shit about anything right now. Apathy fits me like a well tailored suit. So much so that I just might keep it as my permanent emotional attire.
In the distance, the clacking begins. As it gets closer I just hope that she won’t be coming in. The clacking stops and the door to my room squeaks as it is opened. Shit, here she comes.
“Hello Mr. Edwards! How are you today?” I swear to the god I don’t believe that this woman’s voice is an abomination against nature. It’s a sickly blend of nasal Massachusetts dialect and the speed of an overcaffeinated chatter of a chipmunk. I’d rather be one of the bawling messes out in the hall…