Untitled.... Chapter I

As he lay his finger on the buttons, hitting each of the particular button, making combinations that will make sense. His dream is flying and his finger is dancing on the keyboard, words start to form and sentence by sentence he lay on his LCD monitor. It's pretty hard to imagine him doing so, Roland Schwartz has never been typing a real thing on his screen since ever he was drop out from his college. He was the dedicated typist and editor for his study group, he was never good that good at his studies but he got a sense for language, esspecially english. He took a deep puff of his red Dunhill. It was his first hit in seven years. He did quited but it was a sense of emptiness in his heart that he took it up again.

He drop by the convenient store outside his apartment this afternoon. He didn't know what to get, he was just lingering around looking at faces around the street and inside the store. He look at the shelf, this particular one which is fill with candy bar and chocolates. It was his favorutite section, no matter if it's a supermarket or any shop. If there is a section that he will definately go, it will be this section of the store. He pick up a few Snickers bar, some Kit-Kat to go with it, A few bag of M & M's, the one with peanuts to be exact, some random chocolate bars and his personal favourite, Toblerone White, he grabs five or six of it and dump it all together into the basket. He turn towards the fridge and took twelve bottles of Corona and put it into the basket as well before he heads toward the check out. As he drop his basket in-front of the counter, Mrs. Richegear drop two packets of 20' Dunhill into the basket. Mrs. Richegear was the owner of the convenient store, she run this whole joint by herself, occasionally she get some kids to come down and help tidying and lifting some heavy goods which she is unable lift at her age of 75. "It seems like you will need this today Rol." Mrs. Richegear saying it with a nice smile on her face. She is an old smoker herself. He knows it since he moved in ten years ago and Rol, that was how she called him since he bought his stuff for the first time here. He was a very heavy smoker then and he ussually drop by daily for his two packets of 20' Dunhill. It was seven years ago that he stopped doing so. "Well, Liz I quited for seven years." Roland answer while trying to return the two packs of red brick to Mrs. Richegear. "I have been smoking since i was fifteen years old and i know when a man needs it the most." answered Mrs. Richegear. She check out his stuff and handed him the bag of goods, giving him a smile while wave him goodbye.

He reach home, unpack the things accordingly, putting the chocolates in the drawer, beers in the fridge and Dunhill on his working desk. By the time he caught back his breathe, he could see the bowl he use as ashtray fill with at least seventeen or eighteen cigarette butt and had almost finish the last of his beer. Where have he went all this time, where have his mind went all this time. He look at his watch, seing the arm ticking second by seconds. It's about ten o'clock now and the sky outside is black, dark black. He recalled watching his watch when he reach home just now, somewhere around 2.45 pm. Where have all his memory went during the seven or eight hours period. He could see that there is still an unopen box of Dunhill laying next to the keyboard but there was two opened box. One emptied and one with two sticks remaining inside. Weird he thought, he got two from the convenient store but there is three in his room. Did he went somewhere to get the third pack? He took the unopen box and search for the price tag. And he is sure that this one is not the one he bought from the convenient store this afternoon. It marked 7-Eleven on the price label sticker. There is no 7-Eleven on this side of the street, not in this area. The closest one is about 10 minutes drive from Roland's apartment. "What have i done in those hours." said Rol as he took a glimpse of the now filled with words LCD screen of his desktop. He look closely just to see what have he just typed, it doesn't make sense. None of it make out a full word or sentence. It's more like a set of codes then a page of words. He couldn't take this anymore, his head starts to get dizzy due to the 12 bottles of Corona that he don't remember he have gulped and the thirty plus stick of Dunhill he have smoked. He is not only drunken by alchohol now he is might as well drunken on nicotine. He could not think any other things except to go to bed now. He will settle this tomorrow when he woke up. Only with a conscious mind he could know what to do.


---To be continued---