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Elysium
The man sighed contentedly as he set his cup of coffee on the end table, which was one of few articles of furniture adorning the room, and sank back into his cushioned chair. It rocked back slightly as it welcomed his weight. The chamber he had resided in for the entirety of this day wasn’t exactly large, but its ceiling stretched up considerably farther than that of the average room, relieving any sense of claustrophobia. Fat flakes of snow tapped against the windows, sticking to them as if they possessed in vain a desire to break through to the inside. Before him, a fire crackled in the wide fireplace, just far enough away that the heat its blazing flame provided was pleasant instead of overwhelming. Atop the polished black mantle rested all manner of memorabilia and curio. These represented all of the things the man deemed his most important accomplishments and experiences. Most of them wouldn’t have meant anything to anyone except himself. Among them were a number of framed photographs. However, the man did not appear in any of them. He preferred it that way. To corrupt such moments by spoiling them with his presence would have been nothing short of a crime. He gazed at them for a moment, reliving a few of the experiences over again in his mind before returning his attention to the book he was reading. The story was one that was familiar to him, yet he felt it was worthy of another reading. His eyes flicked across the page faster and faster as the tension began to build. He chuckled once as he stumbled across a particularly well-written line. He ought to write that down. He promised himself that he would later despite the fact that he knew that he would inevitably forget and those profound words would be lost upon him until the next time he decided to read this particular story. Perhaps he never would. Perhaps he would be in the ground before his fingers ever flipped these same pages again. He supposed there was nothing wrong with that. He wouldn’t object to leaving the world in just a few hours. He only prayed that he would remain long enough to bear witness as the plot came to fruition one last time.
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This scene was an attempt of mine to capture my ideal life. I hope readers are able to relate to it in some way or at least understand its appeal.