Open to key

Open to key, he needs a key to open

A life of a guy who locked up himself in the room

He lighted up his cigarette as he used to, smokes were polishing his pale slim face, and his eyebrows twisted toward the dark blue sky, letting smokes continue to roll his teeth. It was 2:30 in the morning, and caffeine stayed him awake.

Then he turned on the computer and let himself sank into the monitor and entered to the world of moving pictures: guns and blood crossed over his vision and anxiety was provoked by this stimulation. And he couldn't hear anything.

Anxiety continued until the sun came out, sunshine shone on his face, telling him it was the time to sleep; he hardly pulled himself out of the monitor and switched it off. One more cigarette before sleep and nicotine interestingly leaded him to his dream.

He always smokes next to his table, and it is always full of stuffs - food that he had left behind in the middle of the night, stains of sauce that dried into jelly form, and little flies play on this jelly ground; cups and cups of coca-cola, with ice cubes floating and dissolving on top of it, and dust covering the surface.

Smokes were everywhere in the room. Cigarettes were burning out quickly, boxes by boxes.

The air was dead here, no conversations, and no interactions. Although he was doing his business, his eyes were dead on the monitor, his business had become a routine, without any meaning.

There were many things he would like to say to you, but he lost his key to
open his door.

And nobody can find the key for him, only the one inside him can.

Lili, Li Hoi Ting