NO METAPHOR

The Boy took a quick gander at his naked room. White walls, beige carpet, and a solitary window accompanied only by a mirror, a wooden chair, and a dangling rope where the light bulb should be. His brown eyes looked over the slightly overweight and scarred body draped in a dirty metal t-shirt and a pair of blue jeans painted dirt brown. Outside The Boy's window the world is alive, something he could never relate to. Sounds of car horns and playing children led him to stand atop the chair. As the rope tightened around his neck he thought about money, women, time, and where all those things went (if he ever had them in the first place.) A chubby leg knocked the chair into the pearl wall with a loud crack. Remnants of two wasted decades poured through his cigarette stained teeth and faded away into nothing. He dangled there for weeks. The Boy finally lived!