The Fifteen Minute Novel is a novel written fifteen minutes at a time with each week day’s section starting with the sentence from the previous day. At least it is attempting to be a novel. For now I am just aiming at one continuous story, worked on for fifteen minutes each day. Started Friday January 1st, 2021 (in case you want to search for the beginning. I can’t wait to see where it ends up. It could be good, or it could be a mess. We’ll have to see. For now, here is today’s fifteen minutes.
Day 8: ‘I suspect this one is supposed to be my friend and confidant,’ James thought. ‘I guess he is supposed to show some signs of humanity to make me feel comfortable.’
‘I suspect this one is supposed to be my friend and confidant,’ James thought. ‘I guess he is supposed to show some signs of humanity to make me feel comfortable.’
He wasn’t entirely certain he was ready to be comfortable. Still he paid attention as Carson drove thinking that knowing how to get from the main office building to the place he was supposed to think of as home for the next six months might be a good idea. As he drove, Carson pointed out the sights he thought James might like to see. By the time they pulled up at the apartment building James knew where the local grocery store, gas station and movie theater were located.
As Carson parked, James tried to remember the last time he had even seen a movie, or gone to a grocery store. He couldn’t. He didn’t have time for the movies and ate out most nights. Usually with clients. He shook off the thought.
‘James Ferris will learn to buy groceries,’ he thought. Mentally he shrugged. ‘Someone will have to teach James Ferris how to cook first.’ As he followed Carson out of the car and to the nearest set of stairs, James wondered if the food in the store came with instructions like electronic equipment.
His apartment was on the second floor of a less than impressive building. The building looked as though it was composed entirely of cinder blocks. It was a graceless box with windows cut into it. It looked as though whoever added the windows resented having to add them. All of them seemed somewhat warped or bent in some way. He used the keys he was given to unlock the door and found the inside was even less impressive.
The carpet was a thin industrial gray sheet with almost no padding underneath. The furniture was at least as old as he was and showed bald spots and cigarette burns in the fabric. The fabric of the couch was what he thought was once called harvest gold. It weathered the years and instead of looking like old gold looked more like a giant mustard stain. It was the only living room furniture. From here he could see into the kitchen. The oven and the refrigerator were avocado green, although the range hood for the stove was brown. There was a door leading to a bedroom and presumably a bath but James wasn’t entirely certain he was ready to see it.
“I know it isn’t much,” Carson said. “But we’ve made sure there are the basics. Sheets towels a set of dishware. Toilet paper. And tomorrow we can go go shopping and figure out your next steps to settle in.”
James nodded and Carson was soon gone, backing out of the door to leave so that James could get some rest. When the door clicked shut behind him. James dropped his bag onto the floor and sat down on the couch. It sighed beneath him. “Home,” James said, trying the thought out for size
Ten til Midnight 