The TV drones on in the background, 12000 feet above the ground a Commercial airline drones through the sky. Phones ring, people answer, a baby cries, babies cry, others coo, a man cries, a woman screams.
Children play after school, a bully slams another into the fence while others look on. Life, reality moves at its own pace, no rhyme no reason.
The TV continued to drone in the back ground as he sat at the chair near the kitchen window. Cars screaming their blatant protest at being slowed in traffic, neighbors yelling at one another over to loud music. Rancid air, hot and mugger flows through the minimal crack between swollen wooden window seals.
His mind swarms with thoughts, random and jumbled lost in a in-cohesive mess real or not real as he watches his fingers slowly flex and flow. fascinated by the muscles, the bones, a true master piece of reality. How long had he been sitting there he wasn't sure.. When these moments took his mind he lost all track of time.
Time another reality.. something that always bothered him, Troubled him, always seemed to have so little time. Late at night, his mind fogged from lack of sleep he’d sit watching his hand flick the pages of a book as he read seemingly in-able to slow down.. unwind, only speed up. Real or not real..
The news caught his attention, riots, panic, distress, death destruction.. strangely all surreal.. the honking cars seemed to be growing louder and he looked back to his flowing hand.. his fingers seeming to be mechanical.. yet organic as they twisted and flowed. Each joint.. each muscle each sinew.. extending up into his wrist then his arm.. in the back ground the news continued to yammer at him about some strange disease.. more riots in the area.. The World. Reality.. was it real?