this morning #4.

this morning, he folded the covers up off his chest. the air soared in through the window. his skin clean. his head clear. his conscience resolved. a bird or two chirped. his eyes focused off down the hall, towards jack in the kitchen as jack paced the length, crossing paths with the doorway. pacing was normal, this pace not so much. did jack go to sleep? jack's demeanor was meaner. jack was not quite so nimble but jack moved quite quick, with his phone to his ear & his hair in a tangle of grease & his eyeglasses somewhere off screen. jack squatted & rubbed at his temples & listened to whomever had answered his call. for the rest of his day, as he woke & jack played with reverberations of phone conversations, he sat on the porch, free of the grind, beer in his hand, visitors aplenty, no more future paycheck.