The Return

So many days, so many words left unsaid. The absence of perpetually handy technology leading me to scrub in corners of the room that have been long abandoned. Figuratively, too.

And then there it is, a shiny new machine ready to bear the heavy load of my knowledge expectations, development requirements, and addiction. Immediately smitten, I relinquish contact with the outside world and delve into discovering what has happened in the seven years since my last piece was produced.

New York Spring continues outside my window, slow breezes and sounds of neighborhood barbecues wafting in to my small room where I've forgotten to turn on the light. My father asks me what I am doing with my life, and I reply that I have no idea. The question runs around in my head while I install firewalls and desktop backgrounds.

But when my roommate says If you ever leave, I'll have to go too, I love the thought. I think I might never go.