Happy 100th post! I hope you all enjoy this poem as it marks the 100th post here on A Simple Letter. Look for more info on my upcoming second self-published novel, Death in Disguise, soon.
Maybe it was too soon
to ask you to accompany me
to a place you weren't familiar with.
Maybe it was too soon
that I fell for those blue eyes
that highlight your smile.
Maybe it was too soon
that I took your hand
and held it in mine.
Maybe it was too soon.
Maybe it was too soon
that I introduced you
to everyone I knew.
Maybe it was too soon
that I met your family.
Maybe it was too soon
that I kissed you,
so softly, so delicately.
Maybe it was too soon.
Maybe it was too soon
that I swept you away
into a world you wanted
to always be in.
Maybe it was too soon
for us to picture
a future brighter than
what we could afford.
Maybe it was too soon.
Maybe it was too soon
that I told you how much
I cared.
Maybe it was too soon
to feel as though I could
touch you in a way
no other could.
Maybe it was too soon.
Maybe it was too soon
that I began to worry.
Maybe it was too soon
that we said what we said.
Maybe it was too soon.
Maybe it was too soon
to be more than friends.
Maybe all we wanted
was acceptance with someone else.
But it was all too soon.
Friday, January 28, 2011
Monday, January 24, 2011
Anonymous
It's cold. I'm alone. I lost everything, everything. No one is here anymore, everyone is dead. Dead.
Everyone was falling and no one knew who was to blame. Maybe it was no one, maybe it was someone. Maybe it was Jesus, Buddah, God, whoever they believed in.
A child was born, they say, that made this. A child was born to Heaven and Earth- an unrealistic expectation of life now ruined by this child's birth, they say. It's what I hear as I follow the people in the dark, in dark subways and halls and places no one is going to look for us. No one is going to find us.
I don't know what's going on any more. I only know I'm alone. My family is dead. I cannot pray to God or anyone that things get better. If there was a God, why would He do this? Why would he kill so many innocent people?
Some say this is the apocalypse. I don't know. I'm cold. And alone. And all I can feel is sadness creeping through my body. Every inch of me bleeds sadness. My blood feels it, coarsing through me. My blood has become it. I am filled with nothing but sadness.
I take a sip of water from a bottle and try to calm down. It warms me. Nothing but black surrounds me. The blackest nights, the blackest days. I don't remember the last time I saw light. I don't remember the last time I felt clean.
I brush my hair back and try not to cry, but I want to. I want to let it all out. I want to not lose everything, but instead I have already. I want to go back to the way things were before, but I can't. I can't go back there. It's not possible.
Everyone who loved me is dead and gone. No one even cares anymore.
I let out tears. They fall to the ground, the droplets running down my face. My dirty face. I think, this is how we lived before. This is how humans lived before. Hiding from the elements of life, and the animals that could kill us. We are naturally cowardice.
I take another sip and breath in deep, trying to calm down more. But more tears just fall. My stomach has dropped in pain of what I've lost. I feel no hunger. I'm too sad to be hungry. My body doesn't need food when you have water.
I hear a noise from the darkness. It echoes. Nothing is coming. Nothing is coming.
I see a light coming my way. It's an old subway. It passes by me, and I can feel the cold air hitting me. I can feel it as barely misses me. If I moved it would kill me.
It passes and I drink again. The water makes my body feel warm.
My stomach drops. No body loves me. I unwillingly get up and start walking. I find my way to an exit and sit down against a wall. I close my eyes, and can hear the people again. But nobody is here. Nobody loves me. Nobody wants me here. I can hear them talking about me, saying how I need to shower. I know that. I know what I fucking need. I know what I fucking need.
I shiver. It's cold, despite my jacket. I take the last bit of my water and drink it. So warm. So warm.
I'm sleepy, but I can't sleep. My blood feels the sadness in it, moving through me. And it hits my head hard. Nothing feels real any more. I fall asleep.
When I wake up everything is the same, but there are people here. People who stare at me. I can feel them staring as they walk onto the subway car. I still feel sadness, but it no longer is in my blood. I stand up the best I can and ask a man if he has a quarter. He looks at me with disgrace.
No one loves me any more. No one loves me.
I walk outside and see the sun shining bright for the first time in days. It's four in the afternoon. I'm not hungry, but I could eat.
I go to a garbage can and look into it. Nothing. I sit on the bench next to it. My stomach feels empty. I feel sick. But I don't want to do anything. I want to lay down, so I lay down on the bench. When I wake up, a five dollar bill is placed in front of me.
I go to the store and spend my five dollars. I begin drinking it down. The sadness coarses through my body again. I feel sad. I no longer want to be sad, but it's in my blood.
I sit next to a dumpster and feel the sadness. Tears fall. I drink my water and it makes me feel warm.
So warm.
Everyone was falling and no one knew who was to blame. Maybe it was no one, maybe it was someone. Maybe it was Jesus, Buddah, God, whoever they believed in.
A child was born, they say, that made this. A child was born to Heaven and Earth- an unrealistic expectation of life now ruined by this child's birth, they say. It's what I hear as I follow the people in the dark, in dark subways and halls and places no one is going to look for us. No one is going to find us.
I don't know what's going on any more. I only know I'm alone. My family is dead. I cannot pray to God or anyone that things get better. If there was a God, why would He do this? Why would he kill so many innocent people?
Some say this is the apocalypse. I don't know. I'm cold. And alone. And all I can feel is sadness creeping through my body. Every inch of me bleeds sadness. My blood feels it, coarsing through me. My blood has become it. I am filled with nothing but sadness.
I take a sip of water from a bottle and try to calm down. It warms me. Nothing but black surrounds me. The blackest nights, the blackest days. I don't remember the last time I saw light. I don't remember the last time I felt clean.
I brush my hair back and try not to cry, but I want to. I want to let it all out. I want to not lose everything, but instead I have already. I want to go back to the way things were before, but I can't. I can't go back there. It's not possible.
Everyone who loved me is dead and gone. No one even cares anymore.
I let out tears. They fall to the ground, the droplets running down my face. My dirty face. I think, this is how we lived before. This is how humans lived before. Hiding from the elements of life, and the animals that could kill us. We are naturally cowardice.
I take another sip and breath in deep, trying to calm down more. But more tears just fall. My stomach has dropped in pain of what I've lost. I feel no hunger. I'm too sad to be hungry. My body doesn't need food when you have water.
I hear a noise from the darkness. It echoes. Nothing is coming. Nothing is coming.
I see a light coming my way. It's an old subway. It passes by me, and I can feel the cold air hitting me. I can feel it as barely misses me. If I moved it would kill me.
It passes and I drink again. The water makes my body feel warm.
My stomach drops. No body loves me. I unwillingly get up and start walking. I find my way to an exit and sit down against a wall. I close my eyes, and can hear the people again. But nobody is here. Nobody loves me. Nobody wants me here. I can hear them talking about me, saying how I need to shower. I know that. I know what I fucking need. I know what I fucking need.
I shiver. It's cold, despite my jacket. I take the last bit of my water and drink it. So warm. So warm.
I'm sleepy, but I can't sleep. My blood feels the sadness in it, moving through me. And it hits my head hard. Nothing feels real any more. I fall asleep.
When I wake up everything is the same, but there are people here. People who stare at me. I can feel them staring as they walk onto the subway car. I still feel sadness, but it no longer is in my blood. I stand up the best I can and ask a man if he has a quarter. He looks at me with disgrace.
No one loves me any more. No one loves me.
I walk outside and see the sun shining bright for the first time in days. It's four in the afternoon. I'm not hungry, but I could eat.
I go to a garbage can and look into it. Nothing. I sit on the bench next to it. My stomach feels empty. I feel sick. But I don't want to do anything. I want to lay down, so I lay down on the bench. When I wake up, a five dollar bill is placed in front of me.
I go to the store and spend my five dollars. I begin drinking it down. The sadness coarses through my body again. I feel sad. I no longer want to be sad, but it's in my blood.
I sit next to a dumpster and feel the sadness. Tears fall. I drink my water and it makes me feel warm.
So warm.
Friday, January 21, 2011
The Connection: The Beginning
My name was Gregory McMallin. I was young, I don't remember how old these days, but I was young- and the world was mine. Because I, was a genius.
The world was slowly turning to the Internet. Text messaging was everywhere, cell phones in everyone's pocket, and a music player in the other. And 3D on screens was just starting to take off. Not the 3D we have today, not the holograms. They were flat screens you looked into and things would pop.
It was 2012. When people feared the end of the world was coming, and I was at the top of my game. I had been researching the effects of ageing on humans, specifically in the DNA genome. And everything slowly was coming together. January 2012 marked the one year anniversary of a rat I had bred, without a genome that was thought to be linked to ageing. The rat, still alive, was still an incredibly small infant.
I moved on and by February, had found the protein in the ageing genes could be destroyed easier than first expected. It was an overnight experiment, and the results were complexing. The proteins were easily dissolved by an accidental mixture in the lab. I backtracked and figured out the exact composition, and by March could destroy the part of the genome at will.
By April, I had figured out that injecting the solution helped rats age slower. And by adding more of the gene, rats aged much, much faster.
In May, another happy accident. A rat ingested some of the solution I had left on a table. A very small amount. I decided that since I hadn't injected her yet, I would see the results. They were the same as if it had been injecting it. I began studies of the effects of ingestion, but my research was halted. The government, hearing news that I was getting close to finding the key to life, wanted to know the secrets and how to turn it into a weapon.
I was hesitant, but by June they had their wish. I was an employee of the United States government. All my research was owned by them, and everything I did I had to go through them to get by. Luckily, I was a genius. Not so luckily, for me at least, I was a genius.
I was forced to work on monkeys. I didn't want to, but I did. And instead of long living, it did the opposite. I created a pill that when ingested, would turn the body into dust almost immediately. The decomposition rate was astounding.
This was November. They gave me time off for Thanksgiving with my family, and said they would work on how to use it in combat. I could now move on to another project. I asked if I could keep working on making humans live forever, and they snarled. Told me to keep dreaming. The government couldn't afford to have people retire at 60 and live off of them for hundreds of years. They couldn't afford to create the room and the amount of food and water needed for the influx of people. It just wasn't tangible.
I spent Thanksgiving alone. I couldn't bare to see anyone, knowing what had happened to the monkeys. Watching their bodies quickly decompose before my eyes. Nothing but a pile of bones and a stain on the floor to remember.
I spent December going through things again in my head. Working on nothing, and pretending to. Then Christmas came, and I spent a wonderful day with my family. I remember it so well. I woke up after sleeping in for the first time in ages. No insomnia, no nightmares. I woke up feeling fresh and new.
I had breakfast with my parents and my brother. Then we sat in my parent's living room and exchanged gifts. I remember, I got a watch from my brother. A nice watch. A real nice watch.
Then we carpooled to my grandparent's house, and had lunch there- only to go to my aunt's for dinner. I just remember, how good it felt to go home that night. And the one thing my aunt told me, I sometimes wish she never had. She said, "I know it's tough to do what you're told to do sometimes. But it's tougher to not do what you're supposed to do. What you should do. And I hope you're doing the right thing."
It resonated in my mind. She hoped I was doing the right thing. I wasn't. I was giving the US a weapon of mass destruction no one else had. I was abandoning my work.
The next day I went in and destroyed the weapon. I destroyed everything, except what I had started with: the mixture to extend life. And as I stood there, my lab wrecked by my own doing, I took the mixture and drank it. I remember it tasted awful, a bitter taste- not like coffee, but something bad. Something so bad you'd rather eat dog shit.
And then I passed out. I awoke, sometime later, in a facility for mental patients. I told them what I had done, and they didn't look twice. I told them the US government had put me there, and they didn't look twice. I then decided my only way out was to fake my own death. I was able to get a man who looked similar to me to die in my room. I felt guilty, but he had already promised to kill himself, and they didn't look twice.
With the use of fire, no one bothered to check if it was me or not. No one checked the DNA.
The next thing I remember is waking up in a hotel room. The year was 2053. And I didn't look a day older than 28. The government was after me. My family was dead. And I was forced to run and hide. And that's what I did for years, until all the people running after me were dead. And then it was just me, alone in the world.
I don't know what they did to my solution. All I know is that people live longer now. They live longer, but don't experience life. Everything is made. My discovery lead to other discoveries, which brought us into the world of synthetics. Where everything is fake. Even I'm fake. I can't keep giving away names of people when I meet someone new. I can't keep living a silent life.
I have to fight back, somehow. I have to find a way to trigger their intellect. But what's the use? Only Zinc, or Vanessa, listens to anything I say. If only more people could feel something real. If only people could feel at all.
If only we lived our lives outside and stopped acting like we deserve the things we never did.
If only the world were a different place, that I didn't help create. If only.
The world was slowly turning to the Internet. Text messaging was everywhere, cell phones in everyone's pocket, and a music player in the other. And 3D on screens was just starting to take off. Not the 3D we have today, not the holograms. They were flat screens you looked into and things would pop.
It was 2012. When people feared the end of the world was coming, and I was at the top of my game. I had been researching the effects of ageing on humans, specifically in the DNA genome. And everything slowly was coming together. January 2012 marked the one year anniversary of a rat I had bred, without a genome that was thought to be linked to ageing. The rat, still alive, was still an incredibly small infant.
I moved on and by February, had found the protein in the ageing genes could be destroyed easier than first expected. It was an overnight experiment, and the results were complexing. The proteins were easily dissolved by an accidental mixture in the lab. I backtracked and figured out the exact composition, and by March could destroy the part of the genome at will.
By April, I had figured out that injecting the solution helped rats age slower. And by adding more of the gene, rats aged much, much faster.
In May, another happy accident. A rat ingested some of the solution I had left on a table. A very small amount. I decided that since I hadn't injected her yet, I would see the results. They were the same as if it had been injecting it. I began studies of the effects of ingestion, but my research was halted. The government, hearing news that I was getting close to finding the key to life, wanted to know the secrets and how to turn it into a weapon.
I was hesitant, but by June they had their wish. I was an employee of the United States government. All my research was owned by them, and everything I did I had to go through them to get by. Luckily, I was a genius. Not so luckily, for me at least, I was a genius.
I was forced to work on monkeys. I didn't want to, but I did. And instead of long living, it did the opposite. I created a pill that when ingested, would turn the body into dust almost immediately. The decomposition rate was astounding.
This was November. They gave me time off for Thanksgiving with my family, and said they would work on how to use it in combat. I could now move on to another project. I asked if I could keep working on making humans live forever, and they snarled. Told me to keep dreaming. The government couldn't afford to have people retire at 60 and live off of them for hundreds of years. They couldn't afford to create the room and the amount of food and water needed for the influx of people. It just wasn't tangible.
I spent Thanksgiving alone. I couldn't bare to see anyone, knowing what had happened to the monkeys. Watching their bodies quickly decompose before my eyes. Nothing but a pile of bones and a stain on the floor to remember.
I spent December going through things again in my head. Working on nothing, and pretending to. Then Christmas came, and I spent a wonderful day with my family. I remember it so well. I woke up after sleeping in for the first time in ages. No insomnia, no nightmares. I woke up feeling fresh and new.
I had breakfast with my parents and my brother. Then we sat in my parent's living room and exchanged gifts. I remember, I got a watch from my brother. A nice watch. A real nice watch.
Then we carpooled to my grandparent's house, and had lunch there- only to go to my aunt's for dinner. I just remember, how good it felt to go home that night. And the one thing my aunt told me, I sometimes wish she never had. She said, "I know it's tough to do what you're told to do sometimes. But it's tougher to not do what you're supposed to do. What you should do. And I hope you're doing the right thing."
It resonated in my mind. She hoped I was doing the right thing. I wasn't. I was giving the US a weapon of mass destruction no one else had. I was abandoning my work.
The next day I went in and destroyed the weapon. I destroyed everything, except what I had started with: the mixture to extend life. And as I stood there, my lab wrecked by my own doing, I took the mixture and drank it. I remember it tasted awful, a bitter taste- not like coffee, but something bad. Something so bad you'd rather eat dog shit.
And then I passed out. I awoke, sometime later, in a facility for mental patients. I told them what I had done, and they didn't look twice. I told them the US government had put me there, and they didn't look twice. I then decided my only way out was to fake my own death. I was able to get a man who looked similar to me to die in my room. I felt guilty, but he had already promised to kill himself, and they didn't look twice.
With the use of fire, no one bothered to check if it was me or not. No one checked the DNA.
The next thing I remember is waking up in a hotel room. The year was 2053. And I didn't look a day older than 28. The government was after me. My family was dead. And I was forced to run and hide. And that's what I did for years, until all the people running after me were dead. And then it was just me, alone in the world.
I don't know what they did to my solution. All I know is that people live longer now. They live longer, but don't experience life. Everything is made. My discovery lead to other discoveries, which brought us into the world of synthetics. Where everything is fake. Even I'm fake. I can't keep giving away names of people when I meet someone new. I can't keep living a silent life.
I have to fight back, somehow. I have to find a way to trigger their intellect. But what's the use? Only Zinc, or Vanessa, listens to anything I say. If only more people could feel something real. If only people could feel at all.
If only we lived our lives outside and stopped acting like we deserve the things we never did.
If only the world were a different place, that I didn't help create. If only.
Saturday, December 11, 2010
Snow Days
I love the steel that caresses me. It's so cold and dangerous. He likes to rub it all over my body, letting the cold blade stroke every inch. It turns me on like a tea kettle going off.
Bzzt. Static.
"Hello?"
"Hey it's your sister, can you buzz me up?"
Bzzt. Knock knock knock.
"Merry Christmas!"
"Betty, you know I don't celebrate Christmas."
"But I do, so take this present out of my hands before I leave your atheist ass alone like the rest of the family."
"Thanks."
"So this is your new apartment, huh? It's pretty bare."
"I don't need much. Just a chair and a bed. And my box of books."
"Such a nice view of the city. Especially with all the snow on the top of the buildings."
"Yeah it's pretty-"
"Just like when we were young. We'd visit Uncle Wright and he'd show us his view of the city. It was magical back then."
"Back then it was a dream world. It wasn't real."
"I wish you'd at least come say hi to mom and dad. They're here for the week. Staying at my place."
"I'll make sure to avoid it then."
"Because you came over so often."
The cold air hitting my skin makes the hair on my arms stand to attention. I can feel it caress me, as droplets of ice fall and hit my face. The blade sits beside me, and he sits across the way watching me.
Car door shutting.
"Merry- oh, hey. Sorry, I didn't see it was you."
"Peggy, you can wish me a merry Christmas, it's OK."
"Well, um- yeah. Yeah I know, I just- I don't know what to do around you to be honest. I've never met an atheist who doesn't celebrate Christmas."
"You've probably never met one that's been alienated by their family either."
"So, what do you do on Christmas then?"
"Sleep in."
"Well, I would invite you to my house if you'd-"
"No. I'm not going over to your house, Peggy. We're co-workers and that's too personal. Besides, your husband may think I'm hitting on you."
"Oh trust me, he knows you're not hitting on me. He knows, if you know what I mean."
Below the cars are rolling. They look like ants, moving the snow around. I can hear the horns honking, a faded bit of music. My hand is in my pocket, and I can feel the picture sitting there. Crumpled.
"Yes, I understand. Is there any way I can pay for it later? Well, I don't make a lot of money and he-...yes I see."
Knock knock knock.
"Well, the fu-"
"Hi, you're the one selling the bed?"
"Yeah, it's in the bedroom."
"Cool, thanks."
"I just don't understand why it cost all this money. Well can't you look into your heart and give me some more time? I know, I know I've had six months. I know that, but I just...he was my...I mean...you understand, don't you?...yes, a few more weeks. Thank you."
Dial tone.
"So this bed? You want how much for it?"
The blade was sharp and cold. He stood behind me, reminding me of that night. Reminding me of what I am and what I lost. Holding the blade up to my face, and turning me into butter. Just like butter. If only I wasn't red.
Bzzt. Static.
"Hello?"
"Hey it's your sister, can you buzz me up?"
Bzzt. Knock knock knock.
"Merry Christmas!"
"Betty, you know I don't celebrate Christmas."
"But I do, so take this present out of my hands before I leave your atheist ass alone like the rest of the family."
"Thanks."
"So this is your new apartment, huh? It's pretty bare."
"I don't need much. Just a chair and a bed. And my box of books."
"Such a nice view of the city. Especially with all the snow on the top of the buildings."
"Yeah it's pretty-"
"Just like when we were young. We'd visit Uncle Wright and he'd show us his view of the city. It was magical back then."
"Back then it was a dream world. It wasn't real."
"I wish you'd at least come say hi to mom and dad. They're here for the week. Staying at my place."
"I'll make sure to avoid it then."
"Because you came over so often."
The cold air hitting my skin makes the hair on my arms stand to attention. I can feel it caress me, as droplets of ice fall and hit my face. The blade sits beside me, and he sits across the way watching me.
Car door shutting.
"Merry- oh, hey. Sorry, I didn't see it was you."
"Peggy, you can wish me a merry Christmas, it's OK."
"Well, um- yeah. Yeah I know, I just- I don't know what to do around you to be honest. I've never met an atheist who doesn't celebrate Christmas."
"You've probably never met one that's been alienated by their family either."
"So, what do you do on Christmas then?"
"Sleep in."
"Well, I would invite you to my house if you'd-"
"No. I'm not going over to your house, Peggy. We're co-workers and that's too personal. Besides, your husband may think I'm hitting on you."
"Oh trust me, he knows you're not hitting on me. He knows, if you know what I mean."
Below the cars are rolling. They look like ants, moving the snow around. I can hear the horns honking, a faded bit of music. My hand is in my pocket, and I can feel the picture sitting there. Crumpled.
"Yes, I understand. Is there any way I can pay for it later? Well, I don't make a lot of money and he-...yes I see."
Knock knock knock.
"Well, the fu-"
"Hi, you're the one selling the bed?"
"Yeah, it's in the bedroom."
"Cool, thanks."
"I just don't understand why it cost all this money. Well can't you look into your heart and give me some more time? I know, I know I've had six months. I know that, but I just...he was my...I mean...you understand, don't you?...yes, a few more weeks. Thank you."
Dial tone.
"So this bed? You want how much for it?"
The blade was sharp and cold. He stood behind me, reminding me of that night. Reminding me of what I am and what I lost. Holding the blade up to my face, and turning me into butter. Just like butter. If only I wasn't red.
Wednesday, November 17, 2010
Cold
"It's cold out here today, huh?"
"Yeah. Sure is."
"You waitin' on the 8:30 bus too?"
"Yeah."
"Yeah, me too. So much cheaper ya know? Than uh. Than driving a car everyday."
"Sure is."
"I'm Mike, by the way."
"Clara."
"Nice to meet you Clara. I don't uh, suppose you smoke?"
"No, sorry."
"OK, that's alright. That's cool. I'm trying to stop but you know how hard that is."
"Yeah."
"So where do you work?"
"Downtown."
"Oh yeah, me too. I work at the bank. Bank teller. I know I don't look like one, but I've got clothes in my bag here."
"Ahem..."
"You got a boyfriend?"
"No."
"Aw, that's a shame. You're a pretty girl. Very pretty girl."
"Thank you."
"You know, my wife- God rest her soul - she used to tell me if you ever see a pretty girl and you talk to her I'm gonna leave you. She was joking, but I always feel weird talkin' to pretty girls nowadays. Even though she's gone now."
"Sorry to hear that."
"Oh she's been dead for years now, Clara. It's OK. I'm still young, I mean- hell. We never even had kids."
"Hmph."
"I know, I know- I talk too much. I'm actually kinda glad I don't have any kids, I lost my job for awhile there. So glad now though, I get to go the bank and finally get some money."
"Yeah, it's tough out there."
"Real tough. Real tough."
The bus pulled up, and stopped. The two boarded, Clara sitting away from Mike.
"Hi, how's it goin'?"
"Good, you?"
"Doin' pretty good, I'm Mike."
"Well hi Mike, I'm George."
"Nice to meet you, George."
"Nice to meet you, Mike."
"Where you headed?"
"Oh, headed down to the construction site on fourth for that new building. Work down there on building shit."
"That's got to be a great job there, George."
"Oh it is, it is. When I'm in work at least, ha ha."
"Well, you're an experienced man. Sure you've been around the site before and had plenty of years experience."
"Actually I was just a handyman in my spare time, I used to work in an office and they made me retire. But you know how that is. Is that a military bag ya got there?"
"Yeah, sure is."
"Man, I salute your service good sir."
"Thank you, but I never actually served. My wife did."
"Well thank your wife when you get home, for me."
"Will do, George. Sorry to say, but this looks to be my stop. You have a good day."
"Oh you too there Mike."
The air was cold that morning as the sun rose. Mike walked along the street, saying hello to everyone who walked by. He stopped at a coffee shop.
"Hi, can I help you?"
"Yes, can I just get a small black coffee and a blueberry muffin."
"Sure can, that'll be $4.15. What's the name on that?"
"Michael."
"Alright, it'll just be a sec. We have to make a fresh pot."
"Take your time. I'm in no rush today."
"Usually everyone is."
"Well, uh...Katie- I'm not. You have beautiful eyes by the way."
"Thank you."
"My wife had eyes like yours."
"Well I'm sure she's a beautiful woman."
"She was."
"Oh, sorry I forgot to get you your muffin. I'll be right back."
"Again, take your time."
"Here's your fresh coffee, and here's your blueberry muffin. You have a wonderful day."
"You too, Katie. You have the best day of your young life. Stay in school if you're in it. And if not...find something."
"Of course."
"Oh, and uh- there's the bank right down here right?"
"Yes, it's right next to the federal building."
"Thank you, Katie."
Mike walked out eating his muffin. It wasn't warm, but tasted good walking along in the cold morning air. There in the distance, he could see the bank he was going to. On top sat the clock, 9:01 AM.
Business was just starting as he entered the building.
"Excuse me?" he asked a bodyguard.
"Yes?"
"Do you have a public restroom?"
"Yeah, there's one right over there."
"Thank you. You have a good, safe day sir."
Mike walked into the bathroom, past the urinals and into a stall. He put his bag down and sat down on the toilet seat. He put his hands over his face, rubbing his forehead. He let out a sigh, and tears fell down his face.
He walked out of the bathroom. He walked out of the bank. He walked down the street and looked at the clock. 9:11 AM. He kept walking. He walked past the coffee shop, the bus stop he got off at. And soon he found an alley he slipped into.
He threw up his blueberry muffin and small coffee. He sat there crying at the beginning of an alley. In the distance there was no clock. In the distance there was only smoke.
Mike wiped the tears away from his eyes. He took out a picture from his pocket. A woman in military uniform, hair pulled back. He moved his hand over it, looking at it. Remembering. In the reflection of the glass, he could see the smoke raising high into the air.
In the distance he could hear sirens.
He put the picture away, and walked back to the bus stop he got off at. He stood with others, ignoring the sirens and the smoke he could see in the distance.
"Sure is cold out here today, huh?"
"Yeah. Sure is."
"You waitin' on the 8:30 bus too?"
"Yeah."
"Yeah, me too. So much cheaper ya know? Than uh. Than driving a car everyday."
"Sure is."
"I'm Mike, by the way."
"Clara."
"Nice to meet you Clara. I don't uh, suppose you smoke?"
"No, sorry."
"OK, that's alright. That's cool. I'm trying to stop but you know how hard that is."
"Yeah."
"So where do you work?"
"Downtown."
"Oh yeah, me too. I work at the bank. Bank teller. I know I don't look like one, but I've got clothes in my bag here."
"Ahem..."
"You got a boyfriend?"
"No."
"Aw, that's a shame. You're a pretty girl. Very pretty girl."
"Thank you."
"You know, my wife- God rest her soul - she used to tell me if you ever see a pretty girl and you talk to her I'm gonna leave you. She was joking, but I always feel weird talkin' to pretty girls nowadays. Even though she's gone now."
"Sorry to hear that."
"Oh she's been dead for years now, Clara. It's OK. I'm still young, I mean- hell. We never even had kids."
"Hmph."
"I know, I know- I talk too much. I'm actually kinda glad I don't have any kids, I lost my job for awhile there. So glad now though, I get to go the bank and finally get some money."
"Yeah, it's tough out there."
"Real tough. Real tough."
The bus pulled up, and stopped. The two boarded, Clara sitting away from Mike.
"Hi, how's it goin'?"
"Good, you?"
"Doin' pretty good, I'm Mike."
"Well hi Mike, I'm George."
"Nice to meet you, George."
"Nice to meet you, Mike."
"Where you headed?"
"Oh, headed down to the construction site on fourth for that new building. Work down there on building shit."
"That's got to be a great job there, George."
"Oh it is, it is. When I'm in work at least, ha ha."
"Well, you're an experienced man. Sure you've been around the site before and had plenty of years experience."
"Actually I was just a handyman in my spare time, I used to work in an office and they made me retire. But you know how that is. Is that a military bag ya got there?"
"Yeah, sure is."
"Man, I salute your service good sir."
"Thank you, but I never actually served. My wife did."
"Well thank your wife when you get home, for me."
"Will do, George. Sorry to say, but this looks to be my stop. You have a good day."
"Oh you too there Mike."
The air was cold that morning as the sun rose. Mike walked along the street, saying hello to everyone who walked by. He stopped at a coffee shop.
"Hi, can I help you?"
"Yes, can I just get a small black coffee and a blueberry muffin."
"Sure can, that'll be $4.15. What's the name on that?"
"Michael."
"Alright, it'll just be a sec. We have to make a fresh pot."
"Take your time. I'm in no rush today."
"Usually everyone is."
"Well, uh...Katie- I'm not. You have beautiful eyes by the way."
"Thank you."
"My wife had eyes like yours."
"Well I'm sure she's a beautiful woman."
"She was."
"Oh, sorry I forgot to get you your muffin. I'll be right back."
"Again, take your time."
"Here's your fresh coffee, and here's your blueberry muffin. You have a wonderful day."
"You too, Katie. You have the best day of your young life. Stay in school if you're in it. And if not...find something."
"Of course."
"Oh, and uh- there's the bank right down here right?"
"Yes, it's right next to the federal building."
"Thank you, Katie."
Mike walked out eating his muffin. It wasn't warm, but tasted good walking along in the cold morning air. There in the distance, he could see the bank he was going to. On top sat the clock, 9:01 AM.
Business was just starting as he entered the building.
"Excuse me?" he asked a bodyguard.
"Yes?"
"Do you have a public restroom?"
"Yeah, there's one right over there."
"Thank you. You have a good, safe day sir."
Mike walked into the bathroom, past the urinals and into a stall. He put his bag down and sat down on the toilet seat. He put his hands over his face, rubbing his forehead. He let out a sigh, and tears fell down his face.
He walked out of the bathroom. He walked out of the bank. He walked down the street and looked at the clock. 9:11 AM. He kept walking. He walked past the coffee shop, the bus stop he got off at. And soon he found an alley he slipped into.
He threw up his blueberry muffin and small coffee. He sat there crying at the beginning of an alley. In the distance there was no clock. In the distance there was only smoke.
Mike wiped the tears away from his eyes. He took out a picture from his pocket. A woman in military uniform, hair pulled back. He moved his hand over it, looking at it. Remembering. In the reflection of the glass, he could see the smoke raising high into the air.
In the distance he could hear sirens.
He put the picture away, and walked back to the bus stop he got off at. He stood with others, ignoring the sirens and the smoke he could see in the distance.
"Sure is cold out here today, huh?"
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