Silver Cord Parables Jim

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Time hung heavy and old on young Jim's life. The sun scorched him with its
intensity during the day and the darkness of each night seemed to become more and more
unbearable. It was slowly moving in on him. Pressing in to absorb him into its
blackness. Life had become an ongoing misery.

Each morning following the sleepness nights began with a searing headache.
Then all of the thoughts of people let down and all of the unfulfilled commitments started
their stormy cycle of anxious throbs. And even the few paltry bills from month to month
added to the growing strain. More than once he had broken out into a cold sweat
shuddering over the thoughts of joblessness and the lack of his pitiful income. He was
without friends and without money, a failure at twenty-five, a pathetic, fruitless artist!

Then to aggravate each day's woes there was the old man in the apartment across
the hall. For some reason every time he saw him, bitterness would well up surging as a
poison. He always had that same disgusting face. Eyes sparkling brightly and face
shining. With a radiant smile he always gave out a pleasant greeting. Always so calm
and quiet. So polite. So warm with a putridness to him! It was at best a kind of stench
that stirred and heightened everything else.

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