pt.4 as it freezes.

It might have been two days later when he stood up from the easy chair, thirsty. Opening the fridge, he saw a can of soda sitting on the top shelf. Next to the can lay the sandwich. It lay there, crushed. His eyes fell to the cool tiles, and on the way down caught on a carton of orange juice. Grabbing it, he strode back to the living room, swinging the door shut behind him.

It was a week after that when he opened the fridge, stared in, and shut it again. He knew he was hungry, but- not for something cold. Cupboards were opened and sifted through, and expiration dates were glanced at while quick mental calculations took place. Finally his fingers closed around a familiar shape, and he pulled out a box of cereal. It did the job- but he wished he had milk.

The end of the month was nearing when his stomach led him to the kitchen and his feet stopped him short from the doorway. He stared into the darkened room and watched the microwave lights blink the time, small, green numbers that lived and died over and over again. His feet twisted and turned his body away, turning him towards the phone. Confident hands picked up the receiver and dialled his favourite pizza parlour.

Summer had died long ago. Autumn was gaining momentum and swiftly making way for winter when he waited, standing outside the doorway to the apartment. The key hesitated before the lock, thought it over, and plunged in, twisting itself and opening the way in. A palm pressed against the door and pushed it forwards, letting it swing slowly inwards. The apartment was growing darker; the fading sunlight streaming in, working in vain to fill up the room with its brightness.

Eyes stared into the dark. A right hand returned, with key, to a pocket, and exchanged house keys for car keys. A body turned and legs strode down the hall.