Perhaps

Perhaps this scene was used as a snapshot in a movie. The fan is whirring, humming a cool tune, letting its song fill the small, dark room. As per usual, a solitary light coming from the laptop prevents the blackness from swallowing the entire space. It is mysteriously hot, uncharacteristic for this time of day, for this part of the nation, given this section of the year.

Perhaps that's why the young man is still up so late; the inability to find a comfortable spot to fall asleep in without overheating from simply his own body heat. Instead, he finds himself tapping away at a keyboard, diligently working; it's surprising how much more work he gets done at this time when everyone else is sound asleep.

Perhaps he should realize this incredibly ironic situation. His mother complaining to him, asking why he never works, and that all she sees him do in the daytime is slack off, play games, exercise, and read. Maybe if she would look past all that and see the young man's work as an end result, she'd be satisfied; but alas, that would be asking too much open-mindedness for someone who has long solidified their perspective like a concrete tunnel.

Perhaps it is he who should adapt; it's not like the young man doesn't understand where the opposing arguments and points are coming from. As he continues typing, he pauses, and chuckles to himself on the silliness of it all. Soon he shall be done with whatever it is that he had to do, before whenever the deadline was, and sent it to wherever it needed to go. The details no longer matter; all that is important, is that it is done.

Perhaps he'll get a breather when all of this clears up. Although the young man has rested quite often over the course of this summer, he doesn't exactly feel...relaxed, calm, poised to take on the last year. The whole process of waiting doesn't sit well with him; he likes to be moving. He likes to be in control.

Perhaps it is painstakingly obvious that this "he" is me.

Perhaps it isn't only me.

Perhaps.