He turned off the car engine, leaned back and closed his eyes. He hated this part of the day. If only he could keep working and never go home.
Vigorously, he ran his hands up and down his face. Seconds later he grabbed his bag from the backseat, got out and took the stairs up to his unit on the sixth floor.
As soon as he got inside, he went straight to his bedroom and fell face first on the bed. His body was tired but as it has been for the last few months, his head wouldn't let him sleep.
He got up to undress and methodically put everything away in their respective laundry bins. He had four. One for whites, one for coloreds, one for underwear and socks and one for towels.
He walked to the bathroom and had a quick shower. After, he put on black boxers and went to the kitchen.
He might as well eat, he thought to himself.
He made himself a bowl of oatmeal and a few pieces of toast and took his meal out onto his sun porch to watch the rest of the world wake up while he waited for his to go to sleep.
His life wasn't always this bleak. In fact, just a year and a half ago, his life was anything but bleak. It was vibrant. Full of color. It was a whirlwind of happy chaos. It was alive because she was alive.
When she died, his happy, chaotic life died along with her.
