porkyandthemob

The morning sunlight is hitting the grass outside the window. The windowpane is surprisingly clear. I wonder if my wife cleaned it. In fact, our whole room is quite clean. The whole desk is clear of its usual debris. As I write the wood pattern seeps through the paper. Non-linear lines, reaching up and then taking sharp U-turns back down. I wonder what kind of wood this is. It’s dark, perhaps cherry. A hand-me-down from family, it serves its purpose. My writing continues as I shift my weight in the old seat that came with the desk. Its ancient iron bars and heavy brown leather combined weigh over 40 pounds. Its rusted joints creek and moan after nearly 50 years of use. They don’t make them like they used too…