I don't see the need for it.
Earlier this morning, Rob had taken up a position on one of the couches in the back room of a local coffee shop. Rob had always found this room intriguing. The odd assortment of mismatched chairs, couches, sidetables and strewn about knick-knacks were, as one might say, right up his alley. For Rob, this room represented contemplative rapture. How these desultory objects had come to live in harmony, no less in this red-ceilinged coffee shop adjacent, was to Rob, a philosophical nirvana. To Rob's credit, any man might ponder the origins of such seemingly haphazard items. The swiveling barstool, rested upon by a young rubber-tree plant; the dated corduroy couches, brown hued; the matching oak coffee and side tables, iron-hinged, sporting skeleton key locks as if crafted for a time and place whose lore has been long forgotten; a barbers chair, the weathered leather seat in stark contrast to its brilliantly polished chrome framework; a wooden ladder, worn, spotted with the rainbow of a lifetimes use. But these erratic furnishings were not what held Rob's attention. No, not today. Today was given up to pondering the possible ins and outs of a bulbless light fixture suspended aimlessly from the ceiling above him.
Is it even plugged in? Nope.
This, one of many questions that had formed over the past few hours, with little coming in the way of answers. How easily it would be to remove the fixture from its perch. How greatly improved its practicality with the simple addition of a 60watt light bulb. How it had come to be strung over him. This was how Rob operated. His mind an unending estuary of questions, of contemplations, yet almost entirely devoid of answers.
What a curious placement. There seems to be ample lighting.
For this last, Rob is actually somewhat accurate. The flood of sunlight streaming in through the large bay window heading the room created a more than sufficient luminosity. What Rob failed to acknowledge is the existence of night. Rob exists entirely in the now. Rob's incapability of realizing either past or future, his greatest handicap. To Rob, in the most literal sense, night exists only at night. Natural lighting is sparse after dusk, Rob.
