Fat Man In Darkness

Early morning a man sits at his kitchen table thinking how fat he is. He writes about it. Tapping the keys of his computer. The coffee cools by fractions of degrees. He wonders if losing weight is like that. Fractions of degrees leading to a cold cup. Chaos, he thinks. We tend toward chaos. He nods at the protein bar wrapper, a thing meant to satisfy. It’s empty. He sips coffee. Types some words. Rain has begun again. Thunder is coming nearer. If the sun rises, it won’t break through the dark clouds. The planet grows more chaotic. Out of his control. Tell me about it, he says to the cat. She meows not for the planet, coffee, or rain. She is hungry. Always hungry. Tell me about it, he says again. Thunder speaks instead. A flash of lightning and the power goes out. The overhead light. The man goes on typing. The battery will expire. The coffee is growing cold. He and the cat remain hungry, unsatisfied. He can’t remember eating the protein bar, the taste of hot coffee. Rain pounds hard. He thinks again how fat he is, how hungry, how out of control and chaotic his life feels. After a flash of lightning, the room becomes too dark to see.