The couch sagged sadly in the middle and groaned as he eased his heavy frame into it. He leaned his head back and sighed, “How the hell did I let this happen?”

No job, no money, no prospect, just a single guy living in my parents’ basement.

“Matty, are you down there?” His mother shouted at the top of the stairs.

“Yeah, ma.”

Slowly, his mother walked down the creaking wooden stairs. “How is the job search going?” He shrugged. “Use your words.”

The truth was he hadn’t looked for a job for at least two months. Every day, he had just sat there on the couch, tossing back chips and beers, waiting for the days to go by. After a few moments, he replied, “It’s going fine.”

“Fine? Any interviews? Any follow-ups? Any call-backs? Fine isn’t an answer.”

He sighed, annoyed, suddenly wondered what happened to that vow he made when he was in college, when he was going after his undergraduate degree, when he swore he would never stoop so low as to living at home. That was before his car accident, which left him confined to a bed for almost a year. Since then, he had been telling himself, “When the time is right, I will go back out there.”

The time never came, at least not yet.

“When are you going to get out of my basement and get your own place?” His mother droned on. “You’re going to kill yourself this way.” She began walking away, seeming resigned, but then stopped and yanked the bag of chips and beer from his hands. “I want you to get out ASAP. It doesn’t matter whether or now you have a job. I want you out. No more hiding in my basement.”

Written for Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie Saturday Mix #StoryStarter