Lost

There are many types of "lost." A little boy at the grocery store is separated from his mother and feels the anxiety of being alone. A father with a car full of children and his patient wife make a U-turn on the highway for the second time. At the extreme, a survivalist drops her compass in a river and feels the air sucked from her lungs by the expanse of treetops around her.There's also the metaphorical type of lost. A middle-aged man realizes that everything he's worked for isn't as fulfilling as he dreamed it would be, and doesn't know what to value any more. A girl loses her faith and watches her worldview crumble before her eyes. A teenager can't figure out how to talk to his peers and stays alone in the corner of the party.Whatever the type, today's exercise is to begin from this idea: "lost."***Timothy Young woke up to a sound unfamiliar to him. It was the sound of his childhood dreams wishing him goodbye. He had not listened closely enough to his heart to know the whispers that echoed there, and so when they disappeared with a faint sigh he merely thought that his wife had left the water running. He counted things for a living, money to be exact, and to count things required more things, like ties and suits and watches and cars. He counted things to buy things, and bought things so that one day he would be responsible for counting more things, and then he could buy even more things. He and his wife were perfect in pictures but felt alone when together. He'd liked her eyes and she'd liked his look and most importantly everyone thought they were wonderful as a couple. They'd discovered that married life was not something an accounting degree and several years of Med School had prepared either of them for, so they would kiss and make love but wonder whether it was still possible to leave. Their marriage had felt more of a necessity than a desire, and if they had felt they could part, they would have.At the office, Timothy's boss had the most things, and counted more things for more accounts than anyone else. Other people called him a great man, and the boss couldn't help but smile whenever he heard praise. Today though, when Timothy heard them say it the thought made him sad. He could not understand why. He did not enjoy counting today. He saw the man with the nice watch and didn't feel a pang of jealousy, and he saw the man with the nice car and he didn't ask him where he had bought it, like he had planned. He sat at his desk and talked to no one.After work, he went to his study and read a nonfiction book about counting. His boss had recommended it to him, and he thought that perhaps he was tired of the practice of counting and needed a little inspiration from the theory, but the words made him even sadder than his daily numbers. When his wife came home, she found him in bed, asleep. But he was only pretending.The next day he called in sick. His boss joked with him and told him to feel better, and Timothy realized then that part of the problem was that he felt nothing, not a thing at all. He lay in bed and listened as his wife put on her high heels and clipped off to the hospital. He dozed and and his thoughts were slow and his heart almost motionless.****More posts coming this week!Getting Started: 2Character: 1Point of View and Tone: 1Plot and Narrative: 1Dialogue and Voice: 1Descriptive Language and Setting: 1Revision: 1Overall: 1*Level 1*