One Picture, One Story
“Shut up!” Jordan screamed. The noise was breaking his concentration as he sat at his comically small desk.
Jordan was a husky man of about six feet and 240 pounds and was presently trying to write in his journal. He fidgeted as he wrote, scratching his balding head every four words. There were tiny beads of sweat on his broad forehead and his too small shirt was covered in mysterious stains.
“C’mon guys! I’m trying to work here!”
The empty room gave no reply as he wrote four words, scratched his head, wrote four more, scratched his head. He was too focused to notice the sore starting to form where he was so consistently scratching. If he did notice, he did not care.
The room was dark, but for his tiny, bright green lamp dimly illuminating the pages of his old notebook. The floor was sticky and the walls were dusty, but Jordan paid no mind to those sorts of things. He sat and wrote and scratched. He wrote one last word and brought his hand halfway to his head before stopping. He couldn’t scratch after just one word; it just wasn’t proper. He lowered his hand back to the desk and attempted to push his chair back. It didn’t budge. Jordan swore under his breath and tried again; nothing. He groaned loudly and pushed back with all his might sending desk and body flying, finally resting with a thud on the permenantly sticky floor. He rose to his feet, collected his journal from the ground and retired to his mat for the night.