Saturday, 25 February 2012

Peeping Tom 3-1-2-4 [4]

1-2-3-4 → 2-1-3-4 → 3-1-2-4 → 4-1-2-3

Window 4

The dude’s up to his old tricks, though why does he spend so much time in the kitchen? He closes his laptop and places it inside a rather large holdall, along with a few tins from the counter: tomato soup? beans? There’s red dye in his hair now, even worse than the green. It looks like tongues sticking out his head. Very “cool,” I suppose. He opens the cupboards and takes some packets and tins, does the same with the fridge, lifting pots and bottles and tossing them into his bag. A large bar of chocolate is glimpsed, along with a two litre bottle of lemonade/water. With a sheepish face, he leaves the room. Perhaps he’s packing for a road trip? Common at his age.

Ten minutes or so later, a man walks in and feels the surfaces, fumbles in the fridge. He feels around until he falls back against the cabinet, staring at nothing. The man is either blind or so dumb he can’t use his eyes. From the expert way he navigates his surroundings, walking in mental grids around the kitchen, he’s probably not a spastic, or “mentally challenged” as they say nowadays. He runs over to the fridge and starts flinging things at the walls, collapsing into tears on the marble floor when it ends. Odd.

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