The Rocking Chair

I suppose you could call this a "postmodern vignette" of sorts. It is very short. I would love some feedback.

Rory sat upon his desk in the bedroom window overlooking the street corner.  He thought to himself “My God, what have I done?” and lit a cigarette. 

 

Morning came.  He woke to the sound of mockingbirds outside of his window, imitating the caustic drone of the alarm clock as his hand half-consciously searched for the snooze button. 

 

The phone rang. 

 

“Hello?”

“It’s me” said the voice of a twenty-something year-old girl on the other end of the line.  “Would you like to go for coffee?” she said.

“Oh…I can’t…I have to take care of some things.”

“Ok, well, call me later and let’s do something.”

“Ok, will do.”

 

He walked out onto the front porch and inhaled the fresh morning air.  “This is for me” he said to himself, and sat down in a rocking chair.  Not knowing what the day would offer him, he sat rocking back and forth, the rhythm of the wood soothing his soul.

Reviews

[ZackOfBridge]

I like the irony and the truth. So often we neglect opportunities to do what we are used to and familiar with. I'm not sure if that is what you are going for with this story, but that is what I collected from it.

[Dr. Dub]

Thanks for the comments. I'm very interested in how others react to it. I purposely left details out such that the reader can make up his/her own conclusions.