He sat, the stood, he paced around the room, he walked around the apartment, and finally he just remained motionless, staring at a wall alive with motion. The daily news and the days events, pouring out. He was in the middle of the ritual of everyday, but something was different about this day, he could feel it.
Familiar.
He finally sat down on the couch feeling like he’d done this a thousand times, and he had, everyday, but again, his restless mind screamed to him, this time was different, somehow.
Familiar.
The wall screamed of war and sex, gossip and pains, the same things over and over, day in and day out. Yet, it was all familiar to him. Differently. Like it had all been done before. Like he had done it all before. Moment by moment, movement by movement, situation by situation. Thought by thought. His long hair was dancing across his face in symmetry with the pulsating ceiling fan as he rhythmically starts tapping his fingers in the the armrest….