“Drip, drip, drip”. Went the rain trickling through a hole that was inconveniently placed in the middle of a tin roof.
A pair of sapphire blue eyes gazed at the hole.
These eyes belonged to a middle aged man, perhaps in his fifties.
He sighed deeply, reached into his pocket, and pulled out a few unruly coins.
He could barley buy a candy bar with this money, let alone fix the roof.
Shoving the coins back into his pocket, he looked around the small apartment room and counted the things that needed to be fixed.
The stained carpet was fraying at the edges, his bed was squeaky and as hard as a rock, the roof was leaking, and the light that dimly lit up the room needed to be replaced.
Closing his eyes, the man called Gilbert remembered how he got there in the first place.
Gilbert winced at the memory, and tried to push it away.
Grabbing his worn out gloves, he hurriedly flicked off the useless light , stepped outside, and shut the door behind him.