Sam sat in front of his laptop that morning with a throbbing headache. He played with the keypad not quite sure what to do. He looked around at his messy room; unmade bed with torn socks tossed on them, a study table with stacks of CDs on them.
Who the hell is Ghetto Superstar and Papa Bear? Why do I even have those CDs? Sam thought to himself. Book upon book, upon book; the bright red and bold words, “Giving” stopped his eyes from browsing other titles on the table. It was Bill Clinton’s book on changing the world. Sam sneered and laughed hysterically. “Giving indeed!”He muttered under his breath. His thoughts were interrupted by a song. Where was it coming from? It was Coolio, Gangstas paradise.
Sam stared at his screen then suddenly recalled that that was his phone, he quickly flipped his sheets and duvet, looking for his phone; it was a phone call. Too late, the broken arrow sign on his phone, missed call, it was Daisy. He looked and sighed heavily, he was a bit confused. He stared at his screen pulled out a word document then stared at the blinking cursor. He scratched the crack of his elbow with a sad pout wondering, eyes fixed on the wall. His calendar, days crossed out in red. He looked back at his study table and noticed his mug was empty. He stood up and headed to the kitchen for some hot chocolate. He wanted to be soothed today; no more manic alertness from coffee and the tea started tasting bitter. Chocolate it was.
A few minutes later Sam returned with a colossal mug of hot chocolate and a juicy doughnut to wash it down with. He pushed his laptop aside and filled himself with the meal. His phone rang again, it was Daisy again. He ignored it. And began to Google search Clinton, Monica Lewinsky popped up. “A man’s ruin” he muttered under his breath. He sighed out of exasperation. Sam quickly licked his fingers and began to drum at his keyboard like crazy.
It always begins well, and soon it ends, painful, rotten and with a lot of blood… he began to type, his phone beeped, it was a message. He didn’t care to look at who it was from, Sam was busy. Typing away his frustration and echoing his ‘understanding’ of Clinton’s situation, “the affair that the world can never forget”, he muttered under his breath. After thirty minutes of drumming away at his keyboard, he paused, breathing fast and with sweaty palms the cursor now blinked; two full pages and a man about to pass out. He needed to let it out or he would burst.
Sam paused and took several deep breaths to calm himself down, he unclenched his fists and slowly began to take collection of his surroundings. He sipped his cup of hot chocolate and moved to his window. He stood and stared watching children scream from excitement as they played. Random goats pass by as they grazed on the little grass in the neighbourhood. Sam breathed normally again. He stood at that window observing the mundane life which seemed to give him some sense of relief; Life does go on after all he thought to himself.
The sun came up and warmed his face; he closed his eyes and sucked it all in with a smile warm and gentle. Daisy was his past and his future was bright.