86 words: Material

Little by little, the things stopped being able to fit. When the room was bare, you could see how white the walls were. He could look at them and daydream, pretend they were clouds. But he needed the stuff. The things. A couch, a TV, a rug, portraits covering the daydream walls. Things spilled out of the doors and windows. He tried to move but his feet had become chair legs, tables, and toys.  He stacked himself on stuff, blending in to the pieces around him.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s