Sitting in silence. Eyes scanning words-his words- .
“State Of The Union Address”.
He knew he was important. The name was some sort of title. Beyond that, everything was askew.
Detrimental words. Filled with fear and doom. What had he gotten himself-all these people who called him “Mr. President“- in to?
Himself, a peaceful being. Those words could not have come from his mind –his soul-.
Mouth opened, failing to produce “speech”-consonants, vowels-.
An idea –an answer-occured.
Whoever he was yesterday, power-hungry, full of anger, was gone.
Walking towards the fireplace he lit the former selves words aflame.
An hour of feverishly written words. Scrawling “State Of The Union Address” on the page. Signing with initials “C.S.”, he rose from his desk.
Water filled eyes stared into a mirror…reflecting back skin –bioluminescent skin -.
His job here was done.
Taking his egress, eyes closed.
- Egress: Games and Revolutions (robssurfreport.wordpress.com)