Untitled--Jordan

It's one of those days where the clouds seem to align in perfect unison, and the sun is shining bright at high noon. The cool breeze cuts the scorching rays of the sun making it the ideal atmosphere for outside fun.The laughter of children echo throughout the neighborhood and their joyful screams can be heard a mile away. The kids are playing basketball, shooting water guns, and playing hide-and-go-seek. They are taking advantage of this type of weather that only comes around once a year, and It would seem as though every kid would want to be outside on this perfect day. Well, every kid except for one in particular. He lived at the end of the cul de sac; the oldest house on the block. It was the only house that was built with a different design than others and it was always dark, even in the daytime. Light peeks through the murky window. The concentration of dust piled high; settled so eloquently on top of the blinds. The room, dark, empty and saturated with warmth, carries the sound of a single heartbeat. There is a sniffle, or a cough, maybe even a yawn from time to time, but never any words spoken. He sits in the corner, reading what seems to be a rather long, complex novel. So focused on the text, he rarely takes takes time in flipping pages. So consumed in the storyline, he rarely moves. Pages and pages of information encoded into his mind, and nothing else seems to be more satisfying for him. He hears the children every day, and yet has this desire to read his book. He contemplates to himself whether he should be outside, or stay in his room. He always thinks of himself as an outsider among the group of kids in the neighborhood, and is conflicted. Drawing different conclusions in his head, he sits up, and looks down at the children playing. He wonders how much fun he would be having at that instant. But in doubt he goes back and starts back reading the page where he left on. Alone. In silence.