Not Quiet, Not Alone (week one prompt)

I am typically alone here, yes, but it is rarely quiet. There is always something chattering or humming in the background like the inner workings of a large naval vessel. Even now there are noises all around. The conversation of the radio; Red Sox baseball and their upcoming series with the Tigers. Through a doorway a washing machine churns and pulsates. Through the window rain falls heavily, pattering off the window. I can see the trees swaying in the wind. It is supposed to be like this all day.

I have always loved inclement weather. Especially lightning storms. A flash bleeds in through the window and I am running to my back door. I stand there in the darkened doorway, marveling at the power of the storm hovering above. The blessing of fear makes me want to reconsider my choice of entertainment and head back inside, but I usually fight it off. At least for a while.

My windows to the outside world are small, making the use of a lamp a bit more necessary. They are always on. I can see the neon blue glow of my computer on the walls around my desk; my favorite spot in the room. The flashes of the changing camera angles and scenes bounce off the walls of the next room. It's football season again.

I arrived here years ago, a more than acceptable place to sleep and an offer that I could not refuse. When my income level surpassed the threshold that a government subsidized apartment warranted, I was forced to leave home, 18 and I was finally on my own. Save for the occasional Sunday when my mother insists that I eat some of her food for a change and not the easy bake stuff that I usually prepare here in this room.

So no. I suppose it is not quiet here, but neither am I alone.