Antonio Surita
Bio
Midwestern Writer/Performer
Stories (1/0)
The Bar Near My Home
My neck was stiff from lying too long on the couch. I could not recall when I last had the urge to move a muscle. My face was numb from hugging the sofa fabric and my back was screaming from bowing like a bridge into the cushions. Somehow, it felt as though I had just said goodbye to visitors, and was then wallowing in the sudden absence of interaction and embrace. This did not help motivate me to rouse myself from this self-induced anguish. In my line of sight, a show I had watched through a dozen times played on. The comedy had lost its fervor to me this day, and the drab daylight seemed to turn everything grey. The ache of my skeleton only perpetuated my exhaustion, and I realized if I did not move from this position, the cycle would continue indefinitely.
By Antonio Surita3 years ago in Horror