Dragging a boxcutter across the package tape, the sound acted as a brief distraction to their never ending rumors. I clipped my boxcutter back to my belt and unpacked yet another box on my own. You see, we’d worked out an agreement. Work was divided between two separate groups. Me versus them. And guess who had more boxes unpacked, clothes sensored and hung up. That’s right, me.
Watching clothes tumble in the spin cycle of a washing machine in a dingy barely lit laundromat really does something to a person. My thumb rubs across the top of a lighter but no flame comes of it. I flick my not even lit cigarette into a pile of mushroom encrusted clothes stationed below flickering lights. I don’t even know why I do it, I’m not even a smoker. I suppose it was for a dramatic entrance but no one’s even here to see it. As I step over moss covered laundry baskets, I can’t help but wonder how my simple life of being an elementary teacher has lead to this.
Difficult question as always. Whenever I read these prompts, for some reason I automatically assume it will be a piece of cake. Then when I sit down to actually write the prompt, I’m stumped. For me, actual blogging is harder than creating a random story. There’s something about opening up and admitting these are my thoughts and feelings that make it hard to complete blogging prompts. But anyway, I’m determined to complete this one, so here I go: