George Walks Down The Hall

An effort in creative writing.

George's toes were the first to move from the his carpeted room onto the hardwood floor in his hallway. The wood was slightly colder than the carpet. His right foot was the first to make the turn to begin the trip, his left leg swinging in succession. As George eyed his walk, still a little groggy from the night out before, his brain began a process unknown to him.

George's brain began to count and measure everything around.

15 feet to the end of the hall. 12 to the front door.

One step, two step, three step...

George passed the kitchen on his right. His peripheral vision caught a glimpse of the table where George ate his meals.

5 feet to the table.

One package of sliced chicken in the fridge. Two beers. Half a gallon of milk. Maybe bad, maybe not. Cereal...eight step, nine step...

George reached his front hall closet and opened the door. Bent over to put on his shoes and tie them up. He reached up for his coat and stocking hat.

Things to do: mall. bank. grocery store. gym?

Dishwasher needs to be run, laundry needs to be done, cookies in the drawer, credit card...

George zipped his coat up and turned around. He was now facing his front door.

Two steps to the door. Handle. Turn. Exit. Car keys?

George tapped the right-hand pocket of his jeans. His keys were there, as was his wallet. He reached for the door and opened it, stepping into the world outside. As the snow fell around him and he took a breath of the sharp January air, George smiled. A day where he wasn't sure what would happen awaited him. And as he walked through the light dusting of snow toward his car, he couldn't help but feel happy for the first time in about a month.

8 feet to the car. Get the keys out. The gun is in the glovebox. The package is in the trunk.