allmostrelevant

Donald endured the walk of shame silently back to his cubical, gripping his temper at 10 and 2, remembering the basics – Right. Left. Right. Left. – trying not to steer off course. His eyes traversed the manufactured grain of the cheap blue checkered carpet, passed the coffee stain that looked like a middle finger, passed the nicotine gum trampled into the carpet fibers by an assortment of feet, and passed the familiar cluster of the loudest granola crumbs west of the Mississippi.

His shoulders hunched over his inadequate cardboard box. How could they expect him to just file away the last five years of his life and carry it somewhere else? On second thought, glancing at his collection of Hershey kiss wrappers and assorted empty picture frames reading insert loved ones here, he couldn’t fill the box if he tried; so he didn’t.

Donald ogled beyond his cubicle at the sunny shores of theMediterranean, until the proud owner of the granola crumbs interrupted his view of that taunting poster across the hall. He amused the idea that the corner office was to blame; a wolf in sheep’s clothing that enabled his day-dreaming habits, possibly the key to his demise. He wished for that poster, the walk of shame, everything, to only be a ‘day-mare,’ but the pinch of unemployment ensured he was conscious.

“Bummer, buddy. At least you got severance, right?” Donald’s sapphire eyes snapped out of their dull longing gaze, crawling back into focus upon his co-worker’s hidden grin.

“In theory… I’m planning on drinking it all tonight.”

Agh! Coffee tastes like crap when it’s lukewarm. I mean, that’s the most unattractive of temperatures, isn’t it? Not cold enough to be cold, and not warm or hot – it’s just, half-ass everything. Darlene should’ve delayed the timer on the pot. How am I supposed to walk now? I have to drink this lukewarm coffee, tie my lukewarm shoes, watch some lukewarm had-beens play a nearsighted game of chess, and wish I still had my lukewarm job. It’s getting cold now. It’s not even funny; it’s just cold. Everyone’s so busy busy busy all the time but doesn’t ever do anything. The cell phones, the TV, the internet just suck all their cold faces in. It’s suffocating. No chance to breath any warm air of the failing world around when all this busy-ness consumes our every breath. Our generation worked so hard to make the best for the next; and what to they do? Join the anti-social network and lock themselves in front of a screen until someone feeds them. I asked Darlene how many friends she had and she looked confused, like she didn’t understand, then she said, “Online, or like, for real?” Blasphemy! I mean, she doesn’t even know what world she’s in for Christ’s sake. I could probably convince her she was my uncle Steve and she’d believe me… So busy with nothing. It doesn’t seem right. What’s so good about busy anyways? It’s so hypocritical. Life’s so dramatic and stressful and, “I just want to relax on a tropical island,” but nothing is done to make progress. I think we just like routine. It’s so comfortable to eat the same breakfast, drive the same way to the same grocery store, greet the same neighbors, think the same way, dream the same way, breath the same way. But looking back; I can’t remember the last ten years of my life. Sure; stuff happened somewhere along the way, but it’s all just one memory for all those years. Just a dandy ol’ lukewarm time worth forgetting. I think I’m going to quit. Not my job; ‘cause obviously – well, you know, I need money. But I’ll quit striving for a warm fuzzy life. It’s just gets colder and stale anyways. I’m not going to watch those idiots play chess. I think I’ll start running everywhere; why not? Why not sing on a street corner and give loose change to anyone who gives me some. Why not climb a hill and roll all the way down? At least I’ll make a memory… I think I’ll start drinking tea – because God, this coffee is awful!