Divine Lust

I sighed as I set my soda can down on my cluttered coffee table. I didn't know what I was going to do. As I looked around my one-bedroom apartment, I was using half of my mind to figure out when I was going to clean up, and using the other half to figure out what I was going to do with my life.

I walked into the kitchen area, realizing my hunger for the first time in hours. I glanced at my watch. One thirty. I looked in my mini fridge, which to no surprise was empty. After searching my pocket for spare change, I proceeded to look in between the couch cushions for any other money I had hiding.

Walking out of my building and onto the sidewalk, I counted the pile of coins I found. Three dollars and seventy-two cents. Honestly, if I spent it right, it could go a long way. I walked around for about an hour searching for a decent place with decent prices.

Settling on a small Chinese place with a buffet, I paid the cashier the necessary dollar fifty, got a plate of noodles, and sat down at an empty table. I took the pen out of my pocket, and putting a blank napkin on the table, I started writing my to-do list.

First, I had to get the apartment cleaned up. With no vacuum, and absolutely no cleaning supplies, I was pretty much screwed. My little living space was fairly cramped, with a small twin-sized mattress in the corner with clothes piled on it. There was a small coffee table, which held a small clock radio, an empty pizza box, a lamp, and a few pictures. The kitchen consisted of my mini fridge, which I couldn’t even afford to keep on half of the time, a small coffee maker, and a microwave, thanks to my parents.

Secondly, I needed money. Since I had absolutely none at the moment, I needed to find a way to get some… fast. Being a writer had its ups and downs, and this was the down. The pay is horrendous. Since I only have two novels out, they don’t sell much. Honestly, I would have a lot more out if I had the money to waste on electricity, for now, my laptop sits under the coffee table, waiting to be charged. This brings me to number three.

Write. I need to start writing again if I’m going to live. Of course, being a writer in a big city like Manhattan is hard. While eating the remainder of my lunch, I wrote down a few ideas for a new book, which didn’t turn out pretty. I mean, people don’t want to read about a high class business person with money and looks, so why try? Though my other books hadn’t been very successful, I sold a few, which should tell me something.

Fourth was to call the parents. Maybe they could assist me financially- I only had so much in the bank to pay my bills. Thinking back to my parents, I remembered my childhood, where writing had been my passion. I had always been fond of the arts. Reading, writing, dancing, music…. All the good stuff. When I went to college, I took only classes that could assist me with my future, which I knew from the start, would be something concerning the arts. Not like my parents supported it, my dad being a lawyer and my mom being a voice coach for aspiring celebrities.

I must have spaced out, because when I remembered where I was, there was a waitress at my table asking if I needed anything. I looked at her, suddenly inspired. She looked around twenty-three, and by her expression, she didn’t want to work here. Maybe she was just trying to get by until she could afford to go to college.

“Sir? Hello?” I looked up at her. Her expression was bored, like she had somewhere better to be. She grabbed the plates I was motioning to. “Done? I mean seriously. You’ve been here for over an hour and a half.” I rolled my eyes and stood up. “Have a nice day, come again.” She said, the last few words just lingered in the air.