Hello. It's been some time. I've been wrapped up in myself for too long. I've been writing this really random piece that seems to be an examination of myself via narrators and characters named after my future children. Here is an excerpt.
The man on the train stood up, his shapeless pants falling around him. Uncaring, unaffected, or perhaps unencumbered by his appearance, he reached up to grab his umbrella and briefcase. The umbrella, made of wood, cloth, and a silvery metal clearly stated, "I, the umbrella, do impose my will upon the rain and not it upon I." Oh yes, it was a piece of work with a bunch of problems stemming from its childhood as a tree. It fit the man, and the man and the man the umbrella. The briefcase that belonged to the man not the umbrella (Although it could certainly be construed differently.) was different. Made of mahogany leather and gold colored metal, it imposed its will as well, though on paper, pens, and a calculator with dying batteries. The man was a serious businessman, all facts and figures and pie charts. In contrast to his other accessories, his suit suffered from a terrible inferiority complex. Bought for $100 at a wholesale warehouse, it disliked its second-class status, unlike the umbrella and briefcase, both of which were gifts from his soon to be ex-wife. The man, totally unaware of the various qualms going on around him, held them and wore them like weights. Which makes sense since they are made of mass and since they served as anchors to a job he disliked. This man was utterly unremarkable save for one thing. As corny as it sounds, he was remarkable in how remarkable average he was. Of almost exact average height, weight, hair loss, he was nearly invisible. Despite this feature, he was in fact, a bit odd. However, he got off the train like a normal man upon which he noticed that nobody noticed him. At all.
As he got off, perhaps as a testament to his remarkably average invisibility, a boy in a purple hoodie ran into him. His briefcase, still imposing its will upon the paper, pens, and calculator with dying batteries within, was knocked form his hands. It went up, remembered the laws of physics, and promptly fell onto the tracks. It broke open upon landing hitting a nearby rat with a presentation on commodity trading. By now, that boy (Who we will focus on shortly.) had sat down while the man stood at the edge debating if he should jump down and get it. He could tell from the frantic manner in which people were running to the train that it was getting ready to leave. And if it left, it would run over the briefcase. His plight spread through his body, making him visibly upset, although nobody noticed except you. And that's only because your narrator pointed it out. And in the noise of the train leaving, and in the noise of the briefcase breaking, the man screamed. It had been a long day. The suit smirked in a way that only suits can. After all, it had never liked the briefcase.Well? Any thoughts? Please, don't hold anything back.
Sincerely,
Me, your humble narrator
