The Inventor’s Lamp
The Old lamp that formally belonged to the once beloved Inventor sat alone on an empty desk. It had been that way for a week, no. A month, no. Three months? Perhaps, time blended together. Its inventor promised he’d return one day. An empty promise, the lamp thought. “Why bring all his other Inventions away with him but leave me behind?”
Antonio
“Don’t waste time,” his friend told him. Antonio took his friend’s words very literally. He sat, hunched over, uncomfortably close to his drawing tablet. The room was dark, the only light source was shining directly in his face, no doubt doing irreparable damage to his eyes. The screen was hot to the touch. Antonio was sweating. His hand was shaking. He just had to finish, then he could go to sleep. “Don’t waste time.” “Don’t waste time.” The words echoed in Antonio’s head. Every moment he wasn’t drawing was a moment waisted He thought “I just have to fini-” Antonio fell asleep at his desk, stylist still in hand, screen still glowing in the dark room.