Tomorrow

Thursday cracks open like an egg. If this was a movie, I’d be the plucky main character, unaware of the impending wacky love affair that was about to come my way.

But it’s not a movie. No quirky Hollywood version of unattractive makes her way into the chair in the front of my desk in Accounts Receiving. I spend the day noticing that.

Also, I only get plucky when I’m drunk and I haven’t been drunk for two years.

The whole day speeds by like a body falling past a window. Quick and horrifying once you realize what you just saw and that it’s too late to do anything about it.

I wear black boots, black trousers, a black shirt, and a black overcoat. I can’t get dressed in the morning and still think that I’m one of the good guys.

I walk to work with the rest of my co-workers who dress the same as me. Corporate. It’s like a chessboard where we’ve eradicated the white pieces and set about repopulating the board with black.

On the way home, I can feel the grey buildings loom, reaching for a sky that’s gone the same colour.

I put a key into the lock on the front door of my apartment. It’s supposed to provide me with an illusion of security. I wouldn’t care if my apartment was broken into. It has all the same stuff everyone else has. It could be identical to my neighbour’s place.

I feel like an old shoe in a dryer, thunking through the days of the week, going in circles, getting dried out by the machine.

Impulsively, I get the urge to kill something. I walk down to the duck pond to see if I can coax any of the ducks to come close to my hands.

After a while, I’m bored and rather surprised at my own actions. None of the ducks come near me.

I go home.




tags