Writing - The Window

Today in class I wrote this short piece. We were assigned to look at a picture of a window and write a page visualizing the person inside. This is what I came up with.

Inside the run-down house, well, more of a barn, really, there resided a man. Unshaven and poorly groomed, well, who has time to shave or comb, especially in a cracked mirror? Micheal ran gloved fingers over his check, scratching at the growth of two weeks. Moving closer to peer out a window, glass crunched beneath his boots, and the outburst of dust caused by the slight air currents he made elicited a sneeze. Placing his hand on peeling wallpaper and scouring the countryside for signs of movement, Micheal made a mental note to re-check the shed for anything that might be useful. Turning to disinterestedly inspect the faded floral pattern beneath his palm, Micheal thought back to the last raid. He had barely made it away from that lighthouse. If the dropships came to this hideaway, it was curtains for him. Striding over creaking floorboards to the kitchen counter, he picked up his submachine gun and removed the magazine. Pouring out the rounds onto the faux marble, he replaced them, counting. Twenty-eight. Twenty-eight round out of forty-five, and no reserve clips. If he couldn’t find so much as a quart of gas in the shed, he wouldn’t even have anything to improvise with. Inhaling the musty air, Micheal sighed, wishing he had never heard there was a rebellion, let alone joining it. Oh well, too late to turn back now. In all likelihood he would have had combat thrust upon him soon enough.