It was a tunnel. I couldn’t tell at first glance but the longer I saw it the more I knew it to be true. It was dark and brown, though I’m not sure of the details. It curved steadily to the left and then straightened out. I could not tell how fast I was moving, there was no sense of acceleration.
This wasn’t my first time here. There was a faint familiarity to everything. It was a long lost memory, only recalled when the same situation arose again. I don’t remember how it ended last time. Maybe it never ended. It went on indefinitely until all memory faded away and I arrived somewhere else. Perhaps it would end this time, the tunnel would lead to a new place, someplace wonderful.
I became conscious sometime in the early morning. My eyes rested absentmindedly on the specks of dust floating wistfully through the fresh rays of light. I glanced at the yellowing curtains hanging limply from the window. They needed replaced. There were small holes near the bottom where mice had munched. I didn’t feel much like buying new ones yet. I always forgot or decided it could wait till later. There were more pressing concerns at the moment. That dream, it was somewhere around the fourth time I had it. Every time I woke up before reaching the end of the tunnel. Each time I felt a little anxious when I awakened. It was as if I did make it to the end but never remembered that part. The only thing left was the anxiety of whatever was there.
The alarm clock on my nightstand buzzed to life. I almost jumped off the bed I was so startled. I pounded the top until it shut up. It was looking to be the start of another wonderful day.
My legs fell to the ground and I sat up, hunched over, staring out the window at the building across the street. The windows were boarded up; sometimes I wish mine were as well.
The shower never got hot. I couldn’t remember if I had paid the water bill. I’m sure I did. My clothes weren’t ironed. The iron died last week and I still hadn’t mustered up the necessary drive to buy a new one. I didn’t care; no one would notice the wrinkles in my shirt or pants. The coffee pot was also broke and I didn’t feel much like stopping somewhere to buy some so I decided on just being tired that day. It’s not like anybody cared about that either. Thankfully my refrigerator was not broken.
I took out an expired bagel and some old cream cheese and had breakfast. Right before leaving my small apartment for the great outdoors I took a look at everything. There wasn’t much to look at. A small round carpet lay in the middle of the room. A small table sat in the corner, and a futon with some stuffing missing sat against the wall. The doors to the bathroom and bedroom stood open. I didn’t have a television and only had one lamp. I nodded happily at the dwelling I made up for myself and left it for the day.
I lived in a medium sized city. It was one of those where the people who lived there thought it was huge but all the tourists; there weren’t many, thought it small. It wasn’t terribly crowded, but the traffic was always bad. I blamed the city planners.
It was still too early for work so I took the long way to the bus stop. There wasn’t really a short way and a long way. The short was simply to walk outside my building to where the bus stop sign was. The long was to bypass it completely and go to the next one several blocks away. It was almost summer so the mornings were cool but not too cool.
I stared at the ground as I walked to the next bus stop. I didn’t much like looking at people and always worried that they might try to say something if I gave them the chance. It was much safer to avoid eye contact completely to be safe.
Not that I was antisocial. I actually found myself to be rather pleasant if found in the right mood. That usually arose sometime in the evening after work when I knew I had the rest of the night to myself. It lasted all the way until I got home and realized that that meant sitting on my futon with my tablet hoping one of the neighbors didn’t notice me using their WIFI.
I didn’t have too many friends or any friends at all really, at least not real friends. Once a month or so I was contacted by the guy I sat at lunch with in high school. He usually only emailed me to say that he did something else amazing in his life. Last month he couldn’t wait to tell me that he got engaged again. He was one of those always engaged never married types. All the engagements fell apart somehow. I always suspected that he just told me that he was engaged to make himself feel better and then pretended to call them off when I decided I wanted to go to the weddings. Or maybe I was just pessimistic and he really was engaged to someone new every few months.
The next bus stop sign was finally in sight. I turned around to see that the bus I wanted was coming up fast. I ran to the sign but the bus zoomed by before I could get there. There wasn’t any point in waiting an hour for the next one. I checked my watch. Yep, it was early. The city’s public transit ran on the motto I had given it. If you miss a bus because it’s early, the next one will be thirty minutes late, Guaranteed!
The place I was headed to was only a mile or so away. I could use the exercise anyway. I once had a gym membership, but I hated being there alone and didn’t know how to make gym friends so I gave up on it.
I still had plenty of time before work. Sometimes when I got there early I would stop in at the little burger place across the street. They served breakfast, and even though I didn’t trust the look of it I would still go in for a soda or something. They had coffee but it was always old and nobody listened when I told them.
This was turning into a pretty good day. I liked walking to work but never wanted to until I had to. It was harder to get up in the morning if I told myself I had to walk over a mile to start the day. But once I was outside it was a rather pleasant experience. I even looked up once or twice to see the people coming toward me. They looked friendly enough. Unfortunately one said good morning and I was forced into a smile and a nod. I was always so surprised when people spoke to me on the street that if I tried to say good morning in return it usually came out extra quiet or extra loud. A nice smile and nod was much better.
The small shop where I worked was at the end of a long brick building. It shared the building with a tattoo parlor and a convenience store. The bright green awning over the shop drew the eye nicely. I bypassed it for now, going instead to the restaurant on the next block.
I got a soda and sat by the window facing the building with the little shop. It was nice to watch the people from a safe distance. Someone left a newspaper at the table behind me. I glanced around to make sure no one was coming back to get it, and picked it up. The front page had a large picture of a destroyed town.
Four hundred dead in deadly clash
I suppose the fact that they were dead had to be reinforced. I could have written a better headline than that. I should have taken journalism classes. I could have been getting paid to tell people that when four hundred people died it was deadly. I put the paper back on the table behind me and stared out the window some more.
I should have stayed in college. It was getting too expensive. I got a job at the little shop I was staring at to help pay for it, but I didn’t get paid enough to keep up with the classes. I could have taken out a loan but I didn’t want to pay that off for fifty years. I dropped out after two years. I was going to get a degree in computers. The math did me in. There was so much math! I failed Calculus for the second time and decide
d it wasn’t for me.
The time moved so slowly while staring out the window. I had time to wonder what the city looked like at the turn of the century, the 20th century that is. Though actually I found it just as interesting to wonder what it looked like at the turn of the 21st century as well. I lived through that but I was so young that if I went back in time it probably would look different then I remembered.
After thinking about random bits of nothingness for an hour and getting three refills on my soda, it was finally time to go to work. I filled up my cup one final time and took it across the street with me. I looked into the shop windows and felt the slightest bit nervous. I had worked there too long to feel nervous about going in every morning and yet the feeling came back each day.
A bell rang in the backroom somewhere when I opened the door. I hated that thing. Who cares if a