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Clean Slate
Posted by The Red Devil
on
Sunday, February 21, 2010
in
Flash Fiction
He took one last look around the room, checking if there was anything else he has left behind. Satisfied that everything was where it was supposed to be - in bags or boxes and dust on surfaces - he turned around and headed downstairs.
Greeting him at the landing was the supreme definition and exhibition of "Compartmentalizing your life." Five boxes, one for every year he spent in this house. He put his hands on his waist and lightly shrugged.
He was more worried about whether all of the boxes would fit in the car than he was leaving all intangible things behind.
To him, there was nothing more exhilarating than a clean slate.
Greeting him at the landing was the supreme definition and exhibition of "Compartmentalizing your life." Five boxes, one for every year he spent in this house. He put his hands on his waist and lightly shrugged.
He was more worried about whether all of the boxes would fit in the car than he was leaving all intangible things behind.
To him, there was nothing more exhilarating than a clean slate.
