It was the last day of Christmas vacation, and Murphy was bored. He walked into the living room, raised his arms above his head and stretched. The floor was still littered with empty boxes and scraps of wrapping paper and rolls of ribbon and tape. Their one lonely chair, its legs about to give out, leaned against the wall. Murphy grabbed its back, unfolded it and set it in front of the TV. He sat down gently, leaned forward and picked up the remote.
He flipped past game shows and soap operas, Andy Griffith and Dr. Phil. When he got to one of those shows where women in nice outfits sit around a table to discuss the latest issues, he paused. They were talking about "hoarding," and it seemed that a person who hoarded was called a "hoarder." Photos flashed onto the screen of a house as bad as his.
"We all attach emotions to physical objects," an expert voice said. "To some extent, we all do that. Your wedding ring, a childhood teddy bear. A quilt your grandmother made. These are more than 'things' to us. If we lost them or they were destroyed, we would be devastated.
"But a hoarder goes way overboard. A hoarder attaches strong emotions to things that most of us would consider trash. An empty shoe box, batteries that don't work anymore. To them, throwing these things away would be like getting rid of a prized possession."
Murphy glanced at the floor. A few old batteries were indeed scattered near an unplugged fan, and he doubted the batteries or the fan still functioned.
"Let's say a hoarder has breakfast at the kitchen table with her kids. After breakfast, she might not want to throw the empty cereal box away. The box symbolizes that happy morning with her children. Throwing it away would be like throwing away a memory."
Murphy got up and went to the kitchen. His mom sat at the table, looking at her screen. He walked around the counter, and noticed that the floor near the microwave was still soiled with fire-extinguisher foam. He went to the sink and got out a bowl and a plastic spoon. Through the window, he saw Cameron outside, chasing a bunny or something. He opened a box of cereal and poured it into his bowl. Chocolate flakes filled his bowl and overflowed onto the floor.
"We're out of cereal," he said.
His mom didn't look up from her phone. "Well, throw the box away. Put it in the recycle can."
"You don't want to keep it, do you?"
"Why would I want to keep it?"
Murphy flattened the box and threw it in the can.
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Teen FictionSometimes you have to solve your own problems.... Murphy is fifteen, kind of lonely and kind of sad. His life at home is shockingly unpleasant, and he's not exactly the most popular guy in school. In fact, only one number is saved on his phone... hi...
