6:42 again. Strange, he thought
For as long as he can remember he had always woken up at 6: 42. He never had his alarm set for the time or anywhere near it
He wasn't trying to wake up
6: 42 seemed to be observing him, and it never seemed to lose interest. And in some strange way, it comforted him
He flipped his lights on and squinted. It had been happening for over eight months
No matter what pills he took or how late he went to bed, his internal clock always prevailed
He wasn't angry, wasn't tired, but he felt helpless
His name was Oden. He lived on the sixth floor of an old apartment building with a balcony overlooking the city. The view was nice, but the neglected projects took away from it all
The city was odd, the sidewalks almost always deserted and the streets seemingly devoid of all noise
And at night, the stereotypical neon signs and flashing lights were replaced with a quiet far away hum of the city's factories producing steel
For as long as he can remember, graffiti covered almost every wall of every building, and windows were cracked on floors up high. Tommy often wondered why the city never bothered fixing it up
Despite the eerie emptiness, the citizens seemed happy enough, always with a smile and a friendly greeting
They would nod and say hello while pa**ing in the hallway, always appearing busy with something
He picked himself up and walked from his bedroom to another room. His small television was hanging on his dirty blue wall, and was turned off as usual. There was an old grey couch that seemed small, awkwardly placed in the middle of the room. It was dirty and faded. He felt he should replace it, but he hardly used it anyway. He was never in the room. He found it amusing that they called it a living room, because he hardly lived in it at all
However, his most prized possession was in this room. His rectangular crystal chamber was lying on the desk and he absolutely cherished it
It was the only reason he entered his room. It took him to a world of mirrors. What was it like to see the world through the eyes of a gla** cage, segregated from all the discomfort and awkwardness of life?
He would have to know, he needed an answer, there was nothing as essential. He thought for a moment and then sat down on his couch
He glared into the black abyss of his television. That was the only show he really liked anyhow. He looked into the black abyss of his television. That was the only show he really liked anyhow