Out of Gas

Out of Gas (PMxxv)

The minutes ticked by on my

dash clock,

slowly counting to six o'clock,

I was parked across from

the office at the paper

distributors.

For some reason I couldn't

face up to going to work.,,

The weather was not bad

according to letter carrier

standards but it was

wednesday,

and even though I had gone

past my point of no return

when I got out of bed, I

had convinced myself on the

ride in that I wouldn't be

productive that day.

I watched as people slowly

began to show up for

work,

lazily getting out of their

cars and trudging that few

feet to the front door.

Pain was etched on their faces

it had been a heavy week so

far and there was no reason

showing itself to make anyone

think it would be any lighter

today.

Nobody looked in my direction,

or so I thought,

I had the window cracked a

little just to let the smoke

escape, but people's minds

were elsewhere,

so I fit right into the

early morning scenery.

When the digital finally read

six o'clock,

I picked up my cell phone and

speed-dialled the office.

Peter answered the phone, probably

still had his jacket on as he had

just entered.

I told him I had a migraine

and that I wouldn't be in today,

he chuckled and said okay,

get better and we'll see you tomorrow,

I murmured something about going

to bed and he signed off

saying,

"have a safe drive home"

Sneaky little bastard, I thought.

I mused about what I would

do the rest of the day

while sitting in McDonald's,

doing the crossword

and devouring a McGriddle.

MCC