WordPress has suggested an idea for a new post –
“What does home mean to you”?
Let me tell you what home means to me:
- Big empty rooms.
- Locked doors
- Angry words.
- Cold bathroom tiles.
- Strange men.
- Silent kitchen.
- Closed curtains.
- Oh, and Fire!
Bruce is still “AWOL”, as they say.
Absent without Leave.
It has been more than a month now, (by one day) since the blind day walker fled the lobby and still Bruce has not yet returned.
The landlady seems to think he went to some or other parade and took a months leave.
– You know how those people are, she said.
No I do not. What people?
Party, party, party.
And then she laughed and closed her apartment door. I could still hear her snickering as she turned on the telly.
In Bruce’s place, is a man who I take to be of African descent. We have not spoken as I fear he does not talk English, although I did hear him greet Mrs Mendlebaum with a quick “Good Afternoon” as she skittled in from Bingo.
The door to the basement remains locked, as “they” can’t locate the key.
I find it odd: They can replace Bruce rather quickly, but the key to the basement remains unresolved.
I am thinking of employing a locksmith for assistance.