- [x] Set timer for 20 minutes - [x] Start writing Nothing. No calls. No texts, no knocks, no invitations. No family, no friend, no neighbor, no stranger. Of course, the whole world was out there wanting his eyes, his mindshare, his opinions, his ratings, his buyings, his attention. But the whole world didn't seem to have enough energy to see him directly, to talk to him, to be with him. It took the length of time for him to bake a potato in the microwave, 4 minutes for this medium spud, for him to realize, he was alone. For the first time in his life, he felt what he had always known, no one cared about him. No one cared if he was here or not. So why would he be here? Why would he stay? It took the length of time for the butter to melt into the potato for him to decide what to do. He, at least, had a plan for his next steps. Pulling on his threaded, bent, crushed, cracking, flopping shoes with a shoe horn, he walked out back, like he did every Saturday, holiday or not, an axe over his shoulder like a depression era stick and pack. His shoulders hung. He picked up a round, put it on the chopping block, and turned one large round into two half rounds with the gentle and fierce combined energy of gravity, the blade, and his body. Within 15 minutes he had a days worth of firewood piled into the hand cart. He pulled the hand cart up the stairs and deposited the load on Cheryl's porch. He walked next to Maria's cottage and pick up her newspaper from the street and dropped it through the mail slot on her door. He crossed the street and pulled some weeds from around Harry's flags at the base of his mailbox. He made his way to the chickens, and threw them some scratch, watched them for a few minutes. They scratched at the ground, rushed each other, faced off and clucked. They inspected the ground like a detective squad looking for clues, turning over each stick in the search for bugs and grit. Finally, he made his way back to his porch. He turned and looked, and in their little corner of the dirt road on the dead end, things looked a little better than they had when he woke up. Finally, he opened the front door, and dropped his axe right there, making a big nick in the hardwood floors. Harry, Cheryl, and Maria were sitting in his living room, with a whole spread. Smiles on their faces lighting the room that had been left dark to keep the surprise.