He ran franticly around his apartment, looking though boxes marked "to throw out", "broken" and "stolen from Gore Vidal". He was running for so long he had to stop to catch his breath, this was surprising as it was a studio apartment and only had about 5 feet of floorspace. When he first moved in he asked if there would be room for his grand piano, to this day it hangs in limbo above the building.
He hadn't left this place for 6 months, maybe longer, he lost track after six months and that was at least 20 weeks ago. Becoming increasingly detached from the outside world, his only connection was back issues of the New Yorker and the guy who delivers the Chinese food. He looked a the walls all 3 of them had photos of better times the fourth was lost in a tragic scrabble accident, but hes eyes shifted back towards the photos because he hadn't always been like this.
Only 2 years ago he was on a wave of success, to the extent that getting the MacArthur genius grant counts as success. It was interesting that he won because he had never done anything of any note, he then fell under the illusion that it was simply because he was a genius and why wouldn't they award it to him, in fact "why hasn't it come sooner" he said to friends. His friends, how he missed them, he hadn't seem since that day on the yacht, though this may never have happened his mind was becoming more and more fragile and muddled these days. He was aware that these friends did exist and that they had names, though what they were he didn't know.It all just seemed to fade into a blur of memories now, like an orange and a shoe in a blender.
So, he felt he had searched every inch of the apartment, even to the extent mattress was in tatters and his sofa was reduced to tears. None the less he hadn't found what he was looking for but he remembered wise words, "its always in the last place you look, and always save bottlecaps". For a moment that last part struck a chord with him, not because of any significance but because he had always enjoyed the sound of the word bottelcap.
His eye was drawn to the TV which has been on all this time, it was the music that had caught his attention. They were showing a re-run of an old Charlie Chaplin movie "The Gold Rush" it had always been one of his favourites as a child. he sat down but jumped up because of a cactus that had clearly been put there for comic effect but when he sat down again and gazed at the TV for a moment he was hypnotised by two dinner rolls dancing. He felt like he was a child again as he laughed and the feeling of detachment and confusion that had plagued him was being washed away.
He looked up and for the first time in months saw what was around him. Nothing. Nothing of use or value anyway. The apartment was a mess and so was he. He couldn't even remember what it was he was looking for only a few minutes ago, or was it a few hours. He felt like he has just had an epiphany, a moment of clarity, which had nothing to do with the fact that his bank account was looking as healthy as a man eating glass. He stepped outside of his apartment building and looked up, but that hurt his neck so he looked down and found, a bottlecap.
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