Days Like These
by Jason Baldwin-Stephens
From there, his eyes moved to the TV and what truly constituted Randall’s portion of the room. It was almost spotless. There was no sauce on the wall. None on his desk and the TV still looked as if it was fresh out of the package. “Son of a...”
Ben stepped further into the room. The bottom two drawers of the dresser, his drawers, were open and his clothes were strewn about. He paid that little attention. Ben’s focus was on the TV; the precious TV.
He grabbed his chair, feeling his palms grate against dried sauce that would never completely wash off. He raised it above his head and squared himself in front of the television. If the room had been bigger he would have thrown the chair.
Somewhere in the back of his mind a rational voice reminded him that holding onto a metal and wooden chair while smashing it into a plugged in television was a bad idea. Ben didn’t care. All he wanted to do was destroy the only thing that Randall seemed to respect. It didn’t even matter if his computer was fine. The fact that Randall had gone out of his way to trash only Ben’s area of the room was enough to set him off. Even if it was in retaliation for Ben talking to the cops, something that Randall would have done without reservation had their roles been reversed, he didn’t care. He’d been avoiding his emotions regarding Randall for two months and the fact of the matter was that he had gone out of his way to accommodate the guy. All Ben wanted to do was to pass his classes and enjoy college.
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