The Fifteen Minute Novel is a novel written fifteen minutes at a time with each week day’s section starting with the sentence from the previous day. At least it is attempting to be a novel. For now I am just aiming at one continuous story, worked on for fifteen minutes each day. Started Friday January 1st, 2021 (in case you want to search for the beginning. I can’t wait to see where it ends up. It could be good, or it could be a mess. We’ll have to see. For now, here is today’s fifteen minutes.
Day 64: “Maybe I could make a list of all of the things I never had time for before.”
“Maybe I could make a list of all of the things I never had time for before.” It was a thought and James chewed on it as he began to eat his dinner. It was not an appetizing example of anyone’s cuisine. It was some sort of met he thought might be poultry based because it looked white under its pool of dark brown gravy. It lurked, pale and mysterious under the surface, reminding him more of some sort of hidden sea creature than anything he wanted to eat. The taste was bland nothing ness while the gravy tasted mostly of salt.
“Brown salt,” he said. He wasn’t certain brown had an official color attached to it but he was pretty sure brown salt covered this gravy. The container of other, darker brown lumps proved to be some sort of desert component. James thought it was supposed to be some kind of brownie. It tasted of sweet paste the way the gravy tasted of brown salt. Sadly those were the items with the most taste. The meat had no taste to signify its origins and the vegetables, were merely tasteless mush. From the colors and shapes he knew they were a medley of broccoli, cauliflower and carrots. All three tasted the same and practically dissolved in his mouth leaving the only the barest trace that they had ever been there.
James thought about looking at the box to determine what it was he was supposed to have eaten but decide it would just be an insult to the food actually named and left it a mystery. He finished his meal and disposed of the remains. He washed his plate and fork and left them to dry. Having decided his meal wasn’t worth contemplating, James sat down on the couch, taking his note pad and pen with him. He set them down on the couch beside himself and tried to think about things that he wanted to do but never got around to.
Most of the ideas that popped into his head were impractical. Those mostly involved travels to far off vacation spots where he did nothing but drink strange concoctions and lounge on the beach. Most of the urge behind those was to escape work for a few days. At the moment that wasn’t a problem. Work was neatly contained between the hours of eight and five thirty. Not a scrap of it escaped the block.
“And I doubt Carson would be content with me flitting through tourists spots,” James said. He suspected that if he decided to take a weekend trip to a local tourist spot an hour out of the city Carson would panic about his attempted escape. As much as James didn’t care for the feeling of being watched over, he knew it was, for the moment, a necessity.
“And there is no point in antagonizing the person who is supposed to keep me safe,” James added. “That just seems like asking for trouble.”
“I suppose I could work on the car,” James said after another long moment of silence. There was a limited list of things he could do at the moment. He didn’t have the space for most of them and as he was supposed to be a low level accountant he knew he shouldn’t display large amounts of money. Anything he did to the Studebaker would have to be slow and looked as though it fit within the budget of his salary. The more he thought about it, the more his mind blanked.