The boy leaned back in the old computer chair, groaning loudly in frustration at his computer screen and ignoring the way the chair threatened to throw him flat onto the hardwood floor. It was a relic he had salvaged from his old bedroom back home with his mother, it’s faux leather worn and cracked and two of its screws missing. He’d considered buying a new chair many times before, every time it created a new, concerning sound that made him wonder how much time it had left in this world, but always quickly decided against it. The thought of his chair sitting in the dumpster downstairs made him cringe almost in pain. He stood up and began pacing around the studio apartment, noting the way the sunlight looked dull as it poured through the cracked windows and casted a soft glow around the room. He leaned against the window sill and looked out, pushing chipped drywall that had fallen from the low ceiling out of the way. Since he’d moved in last year, he’d trying to convince himself that his home had “character” and that’s why he was so drawn to it. It was one of the oldest apartments in the downtown, after all. But in reality, the only reason he’d began renting the place was his mother’s immediate face of disgust when she first walked in during their search for a place to live while he finished up school. Well, that and it was cheap and he didn’t have to deal with a roommate.
     Pressing his face against the warm glass, he closed his eyes and began rubbing his temples, hoping it would pull out the harsh throbbing within his head. It was a simple paper he had to write, one he imagined most college students like him would be overjoyed to do. It was a mere seven hundred words with only one simple question to answer: What do you plan to do when you are done with college? There were a variety of answers he could go with, but the only one that seemed to fit his plans was the same variation of the paper he knew everyone else in the class would write. He would get a simple, steady job, get married to a beautiful woman, have a few kids, and live out a normal but successful life, just as everyone plans to do. The only problem was that he didn’t want that for himself, but at the same time, he also did not know what he wanted from his future. Still, he’d never dared to imagine something different from it, any sense of creativity disappearing completely whenever he tried to mold a different life for himself. He figured it was easier just to go with the average, and figure it all out when he absolutely had to.
     He opened his eyes and stared through the glass to the busy street below. The sun was setting quickly, crawling its way behind the various small coffee shops and shops that lined the horizon. The glare it caused caught the attention of everyone outside, from gossiping mothers squinting as they leaned against strollers to his fellow students who put their sunglasses on as they made their way towards whatever they had planned for the night. Even the children noticed, shielding their wide eyes with sticky, sugar-coated  hands as they walked home with their parents from the ice cream shop at the end of the road. He used to go there when he was little too, walking hand in hand with his mom and dad every so often. That was before they’d begun the war against each other, with him being the territory they were battling for it seemed. These trips became less of a happy family outing but instead another argument waiting to happen. He used to write stories back then to distract himself from their yelling and harsh words. They were simple, innocent things that could only really be deciphered by a child. They told the tales of dinosaurs wandering the moon or wizards playing rock music, nothing more than his imagination. However, the stories got gradually better and better with age, even winning him an award in sixth grade. It was about a family on their way to Sunday mass, with two brothers fighting and giggling in their fancy, white shirts, and the mother and father dressed nicely in the front seat and holding hands happily. However, their car broke down and they were forced to pull over to the side of the road. The parents started arguing, blaming each other for the problem. The boys, unable to watch, ran off into a nearby field and played until the problem was solved. They piled back in the car and drove home as the mother lectured the sons for ruining their new shirts and their parents continued to fight, church forgotten completely. A week after the boy was awarded with a small ribbon and a handshake, his parents officially divorced, right after reading the story. He’d avoided writing anything but essays since.
    The boy closed his blinds as night began to fall, the sun almost vanishing completely in the sky. He still had the paper to write. It was due the next morning, which seemed like such a small amount of time. He thought for a few minutes more about what he was going to write as he began pacing again, what he want his future to hold. Finally, he gave up, deciding to just write the same generic paper he’d planned and trudging his way towards the chair he’d occupied earlier. However, the minute his body hit the worn leather, he heard one of the few remaining screws fall and he crashed to the ground in a great clatter, banging his head and wrist hard against the floor. He sat in shock for a moment, clutching his arm to his chest and rubbing his head. He couldn’t believe it had finally broken. It was the same chair he’d wanted so desperately to preserve, and it left him in a heap on the dusty, cold ground. His head spun and ached, as he continued to sit in a daze for what seemed like forever. Finally, he jumped up, grabbing it’s now useless pieces in an angry rush and dashing out his front door and down the stairs. When he reached the dumpster, he tossed in the pieces of broken furniture with such a brutal force that it chipped paint off of the chair’s new home, where it belonged. When he got back into his apartment, he sat cross legged in the now empty space where his seat once stood, his head spinning. It was then that he started to laugh, tears of joy flooding his tired eyes and strong laughter shaking his core. The tremendous noise of it seemed to echo through the entire building. Eventually, when it died down into a quiet giggle, he pulled his laptop from the desk on to the floor before him, and began to write.