The Move

Steven sighed as he started down at the box in his hand.  The word “bedroom” was sprawled on the side in black marker like graffiti.  It was one of dozens of identical boxes littering the room.  All had something written on them to denote where their final resting place was to be.  Steven sighed as he turned to the stairwell to make the three story journey to the truck below.

            Steven hated all of this.  He did not want to move.  He liked his studio apartment.  Sure, it was dank and dark and his neighbors were too loud, but it was comfortable to him.  It had been his home for the past 5 years and now he was leaving it.  She was making him leave it.  Susan, his girlfriend decided that they were getting a place together.  Steven, though he liked, even loved Susan, did not share her feelings.  Steven was not comfortable with change.  He liked things to always be the same.  That is why he had been getting the same haircut since 2002 and never threw out any clothing.  It had been an unhappy day when Susan had escaped from his place with 3 garbage bags full of his old t-shirts and memories.  Susan had not listened when Steven had tried to explain to her why he needed that Green Day t-shirt with the holes in it.  Some people just don’t understand sentimentality.

            Steven sighed as he watched the movers go about their business.  Apparently none of them knew what the word fragile meant by the way they handled his belongings.  It might as well be a foreign language by the way they tossed the boxes around.  Steven thought about speaking up, but talked himself out of it.  He did not want confrontation.  Especially with men who were capable of carrying a sofa down three flights almost single handedly.

            Steven forced out a half smile and then turned to make the return journey up stairs.  The universe was conspiring against him and this whole ordeal of “moving” was just beginning.