Frustration

The house was quiet, the single occupant was still.

Brown doors made of elegant wood and silver door nobs, walls painted dark blue and grey with brown bookshelf's made of the same wood as the doors. The old house was located in a quiet suburban area, undisturbed by it's neighbors; the exterior was of Victorian influence with flying buttresses and high spires pointed towards the sky. The yard was huge, the single driveway lead into a small garage.

It was old. The house had been there for quite the sum of time, the author had lived there for over 40 years.

Peaceful was one word to describe the scenery, another was still.

The authors plight was unseen and unnoticed, his quiet frustration was silent except for the sound of pages being flipped.

'thump'

The book was set down forcefully, frustration showed on the man's face as he stared at the door.

The sound of footsteps began to approach as the man's facial features twisted, his lips drew to a thin line as the door withstood the visitors knock.

'Knock' 'knock' 'knock'

The sound echoed in the house and lasted for a few seconds, followed by the author standing up from the creaking chair. Anger enclosed his features, his steps resounded across the house as he approached the loan door.

'This better be good'

The author slowly and methodically unlatched the door and turned the brass knob. Sunlight shadowed the man's face at first- then his eyes adjusted to the expected discomfort.

The man standing at the door looked to be in his 30's a face filled with laugh lines and salt and pepper hair. His beard was as big as the mop of hair on his head, combed back with the addition of some handy hair gel. His voice sounded as rough as his appearance.

"Long time no see old friend! How are you these days?"

'His smile is irritating as always' The author concluded. The man was wearing old raggedy clothing and the hair gel, the author noticed, looked increasingly like oil.

"I'm fine, I think you should worry about yourself... Tiger"

*HAHAHAHAHA!* "It's great that you still remember me old friend!"

Raucous laughter filled the house as the author slammed the door in the mans face.

"Hey! I wasn't done talking!" *knock* *knock* *knock*

The author closed his eyes as leaned his back against the door. *sigh* 'I can't do this- he's back and I... I... No, I won't let him in. I WON'T. But...'

*sigh*

Another round of knocking, then dead silence...

The authors eyes slowly clenched as his face scrunched. His hands balled at his sides. 'I... *sigh* fine, one more time. That's all I can give him'

The author turned back around and slowly once more turned that brass knob.

He was shocked when the man suddenly lept towards him and hugged him.

"I'm so sorry... I... wasn't thinking right back then. I want to apologize. I know you probably won't forgive me but you deserve to know why I did all of that. Once again i'm sorry.... so so sorry...."

His mumbling was tuned out by the author, the mans statement was slowly registered as he realised what he expected was wrong. The author slowly relaxed as the man continued to mutter apologies.

"Okay. Come in."

"It's okay if you won't let me in, I kinda expected... it... Wait, you'll listen to me?"

"Yeah, you owe me an explanation after all of that." The author then smirked.

"And a hundred bucks"