Broken T.V.

Close your eyes briefly. Think of one object that's in the room and focus on it. Without opening your eyes recall as much information as you can about it. After three minutes or so open your eyes and write in as much detail as you can about the object without looking at it.

The television was broken. She didn't give voice to it, but she was secretly thrilled. If she had found a way to engineer the demise of the television she would have but it was instead a happy accident. Everyone talked more now, music played long into the night, the sweet smell of ganga lingered in the air longer. She hoped the television would never be resurrected, the living room would remain electric with their ideas. The television would, of corse, be fixed. She knew they couldn't live on this way, they were not the kind of people who read books and killed their television. She wasn't quite sure how she wound up here, somewhere in a middle american life. She was supposed to write the next great american novel, stay up late into the night debating politics and getting steadily drunk on cheap red wine. She was supposed to create something to change the world, and instead knew the hosts of varying reality shows. That this did not depress her, which was the most surprising bit of all. After years of fighting like hell to be different she was ready for a break. The television numbed the depression, the sports shows gave her a point of reference at parties. She was torn between the eternal struggle to be unique and the blissfulness of being, for just a moment, ordinary.

New Theme

I'm going to attempt to write more and so from now on I'll follow one writing prompt a day (more or less) and publish it here. I'm using the prompts, in order, from http://creativewritingprompts.com/