The key scraped the escutcheon, scrying it in the ritual loops of the half blind. Finally it found it’s home, and with a felt but unheard click the door was opened to reveal the jagged darkness of The Room.
This was where it happened - the planning for the futures. The figuring out. After an evening out crawling for wisdom, one fellow had told him just go home then, after the Thinker had explained his quandary (no job, shaky marriage, kid drifting away).
It was a good bit of wisdom, and the Thinker rolled it over now as he turned on the tiny room’s dim bulb, moved some broken garden rakes out of the way and fished out a bag cigarettes, cigars, and a half full bottle of herbal liquor.
With his tools in hand, the Thinker sat by the workbench, gathering his notebooks and reviewing yesterday’s epiphanies. Some good stuff here, he thought as he took a long pull of the liquor. It brought a much needed sharpness to his thoughts.
Finally having gathered his thoughts, the Thinker put his pencil to work with a new entry:
February 25, 2025:
NEW PLAN
It began.