The man stood silently in the midst of gloom staring at the mirror thinking for a long time and then began to speak.
“I have spent the last years in approaching desperation not wanting to come to terms with my current part in this play of human existence. I am a gopher. Someone that has become too accustomed to hiding in a hole to try to escape my own mortality of human fallibility. This last two weeks I have stopped the doomsday clock. And I realize I’m living in ashes here. Two years after the death of the last one. Every corner holds something from before under dust unresolved. I feel like I am in a hotel room. Hiding from the fact that the world has turned so many times on its axis that I can barely say that I know it now. I look in the mirror and I see a man standing weight distributed equally on two feet. A steady gaze unfazed by anything ahead. The continued chaos of a future a possible implement of use. I ponder if my remaining becalmed serves any further purpose? I am a refugee from a mode of life that is no longer mine. Those long held hopes and dreams like dust castles. One good exhale and they are all gone. Even the emerges are different. No guilt left in the bottle to regret forgetting them. My nightly vision of life a parade in a circle around a maypole by fantastic beasts. All of which no matter how fearsome fade with the approach of each dawn. This place has become a waxen corpse and I now longer have anyplace to call home.”
He stood there in silence waiting for a response but none was forthcoming. The horizon as taken from the next room looked equally bleak. Amorphous storm clouds spread slowly out like spilled ether. The room about him formed a question mark. Just a dirty old empty space about which were stacked the odd evidence of someone’s else’s life that he had briefly shared. The world would not offer this ever again. The doorbell rang and he picked up his bags. But, it was someone else’s problem now. His own dilemma had run its course. There was no where else left to go but out.