Tom had been sitting in his room, quiet and lonely for quite some time now. All the problems and distractions had kept him up for weeks, thinking. Thinking alone, in his quiet room. The room was quite lonely, he didn’t know what to think of it. Thinking… he thought; “Why should I think?” But he kept thinking, in the cold. His room was quite cold. Cold and lonely. He sat alone in his cold and lonely room.
Eventually he stood up. Up towards the sky he looked, but it was not there. His ceiling was there, and then he remembered; he was in his room. He was alone in his cold room. His cold and lonely room was not very inviting and he wanted to leave. He looked for the door, but could not find it. He decided he’d leave through his window. Opening the cold window next to him, he looked up, but the sky was not there. He looked down, and the grass was not there. He closed the window.
Tom sat on his bed and started thinking. Once again there he was, alone in his cold, uninviting room, thinking. He thought many thoughts from many times. He thought; “What am I thinking about?” But he could not remember, as that thought left his head a long time ago. Stumped, he laid down to rest, but could not close his eyes. Instead, they would open wider.
Tom was sick of being in this cold, lonely, uninviting room, with nowhere to go and nowhere to be. He kept thinking and thinking but never doing anything. Eventually, all of his thoughts culminated into one idea, an idea surpassing all that had come before. Tom moved his head, looking down at the floor. The room suddenly became warm, as he looked down at the floor in his lonely, uninviting room. He suddenly thought to take a step, and onto the floor he went. The floor was warm, almost inviting. Tom was on the warm, inviting floor in his lonely room. Tom had a goal. Tom had never had goals before, but suddenly he did. What was this warmth? What did it mean? He had to find out. He would do anything to find the center of this warmth and stick to it forever. Using his hands, he started to feel around the floor, pushing it down subtly with his left hand. After spending some time, he felt a spot that was slightly less sturdy than the rest. Tom was now focused on this spot, putting all he had into it. Suddenly, the floor began to tear, and he fell down into what lay below.
Tom was falling. He was cold at first, and it was dark. As he continued to fall, he suddenly felt a pinch of warmness as a splash of color briefly appeared in the void. Tom continued to fall further into the seemingly endless abyss. Tom felt warm as another streak of color zipped by like a comet against the night sky. More and more of these comets of color flew around, turning the lifeless void into something beautiful. Tom felt happy. What was happiness? He didn’t recognize this feeling, but the warmness he felt resonated with him.
Tom was in a warm, colorful abyss. As he continued to fall he was happy. The warmness and colors all made him feel happy. He reached out, so that just maybe he could hold onto one of these colors. Just as he touched it, it disappeared. One by one, the colors disappeared, and the warmness left. That is when Tom hit the bottom. Tom felt hurt. He didn’t recognize this feeling, but he was able to feel the coldness that it left him in. Getting himself up, he looked around, hoping to find the colors that had left him.
As he walked around the damp cold room, he started thinking. Thinking about the colors, the warmth, and how he felt “happy”. He wanted this feeling to come back. The bottom of the abyss was very uninviting, and he was lonely. Tom was in a cold, damp, lonely and uninviting abyss. He felt the floor, and it was rough, almost painfully. Standing back up, he decided to walk. Tom was walking in the cold, damp, lonely and uninviting abyss. After walking for what felt like centuries, he came across a very subtle light. It was… colorful. At last he had found it! The color he so desperately wanted to see again was right before his very self. But as he reached out to it, it started to move away from him. Slightly faster, he tried to reach for it, but it just moved away again. He started to run after the color, which continuously avoided him. As he gave up, turning away, he heard in a soft tone: “I don’t think we could make this work, even if we both tried our hardest.”
Tom woke up in a cold sweat. There he was, laying in bed, alone and cold. His television was on, playing late-night broadcasts. He looked around, trying to find a hint of the color, but the only light he could find came from the television. He checked his answering machine, although there were no messages left for him. He let out a sigh, as he got back into bed, and drifted asleep.