Internet Love

Mark came home to his small, but comfortable apartment. Pulling into his parking spot, jerking back the parking brake and shutting off his 2002 Honda Civic. Black, but very dirty from the salt that had been laid numerous times on the streets of Milwaukee. It had been a brutaly wicked winter season. No trace of snow left in early April , but many vehicles still carried the filthy splatter from the roads. Mark knew it was a good time to get a car wash, but again, just put it off. Too tired. His level of wanting to do anything had diminished. There hasn't been much for him to look forward to as of late.

The car's engine was shutdown, but Mark just sat in his car, his left hand on the upper part of the steering wheel. His right still placed on the released parking brake. He wondered to himself. How many more days can I take this? All the good that has entered my life last year, seems to have just been yanked away. He gently rested his forehead on the top of the wheel, gently knocking it repeatedely. His head raised, and he took a deep breath. Well, he thought, let's go see...shall we?

He grabbed the plastic shopping bag on the passenger seat, and crawled out of the car. He looked in the bag, and realized that feeling of forgeting something came true again. He forgot bread. "Oh well", he mumbled. "No sandwiches, who cares." There's always a jar of peanut butter and a knife waiting for him. Who needs bread? Shutting his car door, he carried his slighted groceries to the doorway of the apartment complex. After fumbling for his key, he entered the very modest building. Some chipping paint, and rickety railings, but all in all, not too bad. His apartment was the first door on the right... 101. His key easily in, and turned and the door was opened.

Entering, he tossed the bag onto the kitchen table, not fearing anything fragile in it. Some t.v. dinners, a pizza, some protein bars and orange juice. The protein bars were for him to get what he felt is the adequate protein intake for him. Better for you than candy bars, is what he would always say. Conveniently ignoring the remaing blocks in his diets. Pizza, t.v. dinners and beer. Not the building blocks of good nutrition. He had five cans of beer in his fridge. His eyes set on his six step journey to the virtualy empty refrigerator. Opening the door, bending to see what little he had stored away, he grabbed a beer and tugged it from it's plastic ring, seperating it from the others. But, he noticed there were only three beers in there. Mark wondered, then realized he must have drunk more than he had thought.

Slowly, he popped the top, eyes half shut, he walked over to the couch, and planted himself with a quite moan. He was 31 years old. Not very old, but old when you work 12 hours a day. Time to just try and relax, and enjoy the quite alone time. But that is what had been eating at him. He was tired of being physicaly alone.

His head turned to the right, to see what was the object of his curiosity. There in the corner of the very small living room, was his computer. His eyes stared at the monitor, while taking in heafty swallows of his beverage. He almost wanted to cry. His eyes welling up slightly, his hand starting to shake a bit.