Sitting topless, bare backed and hunched over. Clutching at my rubbery and dulled edge charity shop toy. I caress He-man's sculpted body. His hands no bigger than my finger nails. It feels good to see a face, to engage with another relatable character in my small LED lit world. I relish it as some irreplaceable object given to me by a towering god of unknown dissent. Reaching into the draw to tantalize my senses, I grab my trusty magnetic board in which I practice my alphabets. A,B,C,D, F and G. Shit. Where is the 'E'? my life is coming to an end. Everything that ever was, or is, is useless because of this missing 'E'. This pre-existing 'E' is toying with me, tearing me apart with its lack of feasibility.
"Dad, where's the letter I want?"
The expectance for his attention, as always, punches me in the face. No answer as always. His cone shaped back wrapped in woolen filth stays facing forwards. Like 'E' his face doesn't show itself. Looking up I see baggy cloth trousers, worn for days on end, blotting out my view of the oak kitchen. I am elevated off the splinter ridden floor by strong arms and wide flat hands. Without explanation I am placed in a hard right angled object. A chair. A chair of one hundred years sprouting from the matching floor that mimicks its colour, positions me infront of a long engraved table. Above the vanishing point of the table I see a dirty yellow sponge computer. One plate of meat, chicken eggs and plants is slid infront of me.
"Eat".
Could you consider simplifying some of your descriptions - does a chair need to be described as a 'right angled object'? The absence of E is interesting - is it symbolic of another absence? (or am I reading too much into it!) 'Like E, his face doesn't show itself' works well.
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