Closer and closer back to where I started. I get more anxious the closer I get. It always happens. I know what I’ll do when I get there, as does anyone else with half a brain.

Time passes slowly, and I get to the door. Finally, I think. I could always drive, but I always like walking. Makes me feel worse off than I am. Makes me feel like I have what I deserve.

I walk inside, shut the door, and lock it back up. Toss my keys on the counter and put my coat on the stool, but not before removing my half of the trade.

I walk over to the couch, kicking off my shoes in the process. Sit down, grab the remote, turn on the TV… turn off the TV. Tossing the remote over my head with one hand, fingering my prize with the other. Prize? Yeah, right. But what else could you possibly call it.

I don’t really consider myself happy, mind you, so don’t throw that into your assumptions. In fact, don’t assume anything at all.

I’m probably more unhappy today than I usually am. Today doesn’t seem like a day that one should spend alone, but I won’t dwell. I don’t want to, nor do I need to.

I hold my “prize” up to my face and take a good look at it. Biting my bottom lip, I set it down on the small table next to the couch.

I’ll deal with it later. Later probably meaning mere minutes from now.

I stand and a take a long look around the room. No pictures, works of art, decorations. Just a few things I use daily, and my presence.

I stop, for a moment, on that last thought. My presence. And who knows exactly how long that’s going to last. I glance quickly at my prize sitting there on the table and pick it up. I leave the room and walk into another, looking for something.

It’s later.

I’m not quite sure what it is I’m looking for exactly, but I’m sure I’ll know when I find it. Opening any drawer and cabinet I walk passed. Nothing I’m finding suiting my mood. At this point I’m not even sure what that mood is.