(no subject)
The man sat in the chair, looking out the window. A fine film of dust covered the looking glass and caused him to strain his eyes. His long, spindly fingers tapped the arm of the chair in succession. 12345. 12345. 1234-5. He paused for a moment, his attention riveted by a sudden movement in his peripheral vision.
Nothing there. There never was.
He resumed his tapping. 12345. 12345. 12345. A squirrel skittered past the window, and accidentally hit his paw on the invisible glass. The old man jumped, his frail heart skipping a beat.
12345. 12345. 12345.
Thump-thump. Thump-thump. Thump. Thumpity-thump-thump. His heart drummed against the confines of his chest cavity, and the man took a deep breath and exhaled, the forced stream of air raising the dust off the window for a moment before it settled back into its relaxitive slumber on the looking glass.
His tapping persisted as he sat there. He couldn’t remember how long he’d sat there for. Perhaps a day. Perhaps months. Perhaps a few years. It just didn’t matter any more. All he did was sit, and it was all he cared to do. He tried to stand once, and his legs almost crumbled underneath him. He had immediately sat back down, breathing heavily.
He heard scratching, and glanced over, but it was only a mouse. He had been alone for so long now, he didn’t even know if other people existed in the world besides him. Perhaps the only world was outside his window. He didn’t know anymore. He couldn’t remember not sitting in his chair.
The nails of his long fingers scratched at the tapestry of the fabric, creating grating noise, painful to anyone else’s ears but his. He leaned his head against the back of the chair, the contact causing clouds of dust to travel elsewhere for their habitation.
He sat there.
Never moving.
12345.12345.12345.12345.12345.12345.12345.
thump-thump.thump-thump.thumpity-thump-thump.thump.
thump.thumpthumpthumpthumpthumpthumpthumpthump-----------------
The dust settled across his face, creating a miniscule layer of bugs, which ate slowly into his skin. His fingers lay mid-tap, poised to tap again if the chance ever came by him, and one of his nails was caught in the fabric.
The same squirrel chittered as it ran across the window ledge once more, but he didn’t collide with the window this time, unable to disturbing the man inside.