Daniel the Writer

Sick of writing self-absorbed bullshit, sexual misadventures and quiet prose, Daniel Adler decided to randomly choose a passage from his novel he has been working on for the past two years for this blog post.

I read “War and Peace” in bed for an hour because I knew I wouldn’t be able to sleep. Finally at around one thirty I turned off the light and didn’t dream. I woke to my 8:30 alarm, and eyes-burning, stood in the shower head down with water drizzling from my hair until I felt more awake. My mom was watching T.V., already dressed and messing around the kitchen.
I ate some cereal and drank a mug of coffee. My mom handed me ziploc bags, “Here, I packed you guys a couple of sandwiches. There are apples, and trail mix and some granola for snacks.”
“Aw, thanks mom.”
“Here, and take this,” she said, pressing a container of hummus into my hands. “And these,” blueberries, “and do you want these chips?”
“No, it’s okay.”
“Come on, take ’em, they’re gonna go bad. Portia’s not gonna eat ’em.”
“Okay.” She squatted in front of the pantry looking for other treats to unload. “That’s fine mom. Really it’ll be okay.”
“You sure? You have everything you need?”
“Yeah, I’m fine.” I would miss her babying me, but right now it was getting annoying. I glanced at the 9:22. “Jeez, I gotta go,” ran into my room for my backpack and duffel bag. She stood at the door. “Awww, baby, I’m gonna miss you. Come on, give the mommas a hug.” I squeezed her tight and pulled away, hands on her ribs.
“Here.” She pressed a wad of twenties into my hand. “This is all I have. Have fun and call me.”
“Okay mom, I will.”
“Okay, love you.”
“Love you too.” I opened the door and without turning around walked down the hallway into the stairwell, and with sunglasses on, emerged into the street.