August 1, 2009

A Scene From The Generation

The room was nothing more than an old basement of a storage building, but it served its purpose. There were no windows, leaving the only source of light a forty-watt bulb that hung from the ceiling's light fixtures. The floor was nothing more than a slab of cement and except for the chipped gray paint that showed its old age well, the walls shared that same slab of cement. A single wrought iron bed, a red vinyl chair, a maple wood coffee table, television screen, commode and steel sink made the room somewhat livable. If he needed food or a shower, he went to the city service building and paid his dues. It was how he preferred it.

He opened his eyes and took a deep breath. “One last time.” his hand eased towards his arm. “Just one last time.”

With one quick motion, he slid the needle and injected its contents into his upper arm. Letting out the breath, he withdrew the needle and closed his eyes once more, letting the needle slip from his fingertips to the floor. It was over with. Tomorrow would be another day. Tomorrow he would try again. Tomorrow he would win.