Drift

Prompt courtesy of BeKindRewrite‘s Inspiration Mondays.

The near-empty bottles set on top of the refrigerator clinked together as the appliances’ compressor ran. From the living room, George thought it sounded a bit like music, if you didn’t listen too hard. He poured more gin in his glass and raised a toast.

He finished the drink and leaned back against the davenport.

Outside, the snow fell thick and heavy and winds pushed it into drifts like dunes in a desert.

From his window, George could watch the cars and commuters struggle against the storm. People trudging through sidewalks covered knee deep. Cars inching forward past accidents and spin-outs, trying to avoid the heavy trucks tasked with clearing the roads.

The compressor stopped and the bottles fell still.

The sudden silence fell as heavy as the snow outside. George hurried to turn on the radio. The machine powered up, filled the living room with a warm crackle and fizz and then a slow jazz number. He bobbed his head and filled his glass.

He moved through his small apartment, allowing his body to react to the rhythms of the music. He shook his hips and smiled. A more raucous song came on, and George shook and trembled along with it, allowing himself to smile.

Wiping the sweat from his brow he sat back down. His fingers tingled and his heart raced. George took a few deep, satisfied breaths and poured another drink. He lifted it to his lips.

The radio faded out and the lights went off. The storm must’ve knocked out the power. George sat in the growing quiet, listening to his heart beat and his conscience chatter away, and swallowed hard.