Time for work (standard:other, 539 words)
Author: Lev821	Added: Nov 22 2009	Views/Reads: 2949/2	Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
His work isn't far way, and he enjoys it, but why is he reluctant to go?

Time for work, even though I'd rather stay here, sitting in my chalet,
in my armchair. I only work down the road in the greenhouses, so 
there's no rush, just another few minutes to observe my abode where I 
have lived for five months. I really do like it, even though it's 
nothing more than a bedsit. Below the main windows is a maple sideboard 
upon which are three vases, no plants in them yet, and a cream coloured 
dial telephone. The wallpaper is a dark patterned green, and my 
television is 18-inches, with varnished wooden sides, housed in a 
television cabinet, below which I keep several magazines, most of them 
on gardening. I have an ornament of a white cat on my glass-top coffee 
table. In one corner I have a yellow cylindrical lamp. Yes, this is me, 
a 57 year old gardener with a yearning for the seventies. That was my 
time. That was when I was most happiest, so if I can glean anything 
from that period, then I collect it and bring it here, to my little 
abode. 

Well, the clock ticks on, and it's time for work. I stand up and head
straight for the door. Outside I look at my little patch of land in 
front of the chalet. It's a small lawn bordered with bunches of white 
roses. There is no fence or gate, so I step onto the pavement, looking 
both ways along the road, not with the intention of crossing, but to 
see if there are any other people up and out of their chalets which 
line both sides of the road. No, there never is, but I always like to 
check. There are also no vehicles yet, but there will be though, there 
always are, and I wish I could go back into my home to indulge and 
reminisce about how things used to be. The sixties and seventies, I 
remember them as though they were last week. If only I could go back 
there, but no, I have to go to work, and walk the quiet road, past the 
other chalets, some empty, some occupied. Occupied by other workers who 
are employed in different factories around here. Only two other people 
tend to the greenhouses where I am going. They work at different times. 
Hundreds work in other plantations around this area, but this is mine. 
You could say I've almost claimed it for myself, but I can't do that. I 
work for an organisation, of whom I am only a simple employee. 

Here we are, the end of the road. On its left side are the vast
greenhouses. I do enjoy my work, I must admit. I'm quite happy being 
alone with the plants, minding my own business and tending to theirs. I 
suppose I'd better go in. I wonder when they're going to complete this 
road. It's been like this for a while. It blends into a vast desert of 
red sand. In the distance there are red mountains, and when I look up, 
I see that somewhere up there is my real home, planet Earth. Hopefully 
one day I won't have to wear this restrictive spacesuit. For now 
though, I call the planet Mars home. 


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