Spaces In-between: #59

"The only way it can be done, is like this." she said, in a moment of frustration; as she pushed the box into its proper place. Now a little exhausted from having to tell him what to do and how to do it. "I'm gonna go lie down for a moment." she uttered as she walked passed him into the bedroom.

"It's not what you think", he said, knowing her frustrations were from something else. She was being such the riddle today. He had a habit of over analyzing; now and again, and was very aware of doing that in this moment. Exhausting himself from the tedium of his own thoughts he made his way to the living area to plop himself in front of the talking box. More and more it mimicked his rambling thoughts at a non stop rate, but he welcomed the distraction.

It should be called the programing box, with all its channels. Set in homes to keep us occupied in a heightened emotional state. Only mimicking the human brain with all its antics and constant chatter. He chuckled at the insight, as he gave himself to swirling thoughts. The talking box that offers us thoughts of our own.

One could have the abilities and genius to change the world but one will always find themselves bound to environments and unique desires. Changing the world will have to wait because Paul has to be on the clock at 2pm, for his swing shift. Such is the nature of the unseen.