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Wow, the start of a new year. The topic is “Something New”. Anything that fits that in 500 words or less.
ReSolutionary
Dreams and aspirations poise
Like Tom Daley
Arms outstretched and toes curled
Over a cliff edge promise of excitement and change
They dive
Into the New Year
Only to flounder in the shallows
Of dwindling discipline and morbid motivation
The old ways resurface
Smug-smiling
Safe for another year
<p style=”text-align: center;”>The Route</p>
My boss’ office stank of cabbage warring with eggs. A ginger ale for my stomach was the first thing I would get when I escaped his office.I fiddled with the fuzzy lint in my pockets.
“Out with it, I haven’t got all day.” My boss’ crow-black hair and smooth hands made him look younger than his sixty years. Who wouldn’t look young after spending every day tucked away in his office while the rest of us worked?
I said, “I want a new route, sir.”
He shoved a forkful of greasy stew in his mouth. “Why? You’ve been on that route for a decade.”
Standing helped hide my nervous energy. For once, I was glad the pig would never offer me the courtesy of a seat. An invitation to sit was reserved for useless politicians and the important people from head office, attired in suits.
My ex-wife and her beau moved in a house on my route last week. If the last seven days of acid reflux and no appetite were trustworthy, it meant I couldn’t take that sight. No doubt, they ate breakfast together on the patio every morning, knowing I would see.
I made circular shapes on the floor with my shoe, like a child in the principal’s office. “I want a change, I guess.”
He exploded in laughter, launching balls of stew across his desk. “You? Want a change? You’ve eaten the same lunch every day for years. You clock in at exactly two minutes before five every morning.”
He wasn’t lying.
“Larry is willing to take my route,” I said. “I can take his.”
My boss wiped his mouth with the back of his hand despite the napkin on his cluttered desk.
“Larry needs to focus on his punctuality,” he said. “His truck left late eight times in December. The last thing he should be thinking about is swapping routes.”
“Maybe, someone else can -”
“You’re in charge of rostering now?”
“I thought -”
“I don’t pay you to think. I pay you to drive and deliver mail.”
He reclined in his leather seat; it moaned in protest. “Get going.”
“I should. I have to meet the auditors.”
He shot out his lounging position, leaned forward. “What? Why would you have to meet the auditors?”
“I was surprised too, but they said they wanted to meet with me.”
“About what?”
“I’m not sure,” I said. “I overheard one auditor saying to the other one, something about inflated expenses, but it’s Greek to me.”
He tugged on his ear lobe. Gazed at his cup with his green eyes which changed color magically last year. He claimed it wasn’t contact lenses.
“What will you tell them?” he asked.
“I should get going, traffic’s bad on my route.”
“Hang on.” He gulped from his mug, slammed it on the table, and smiled. “Why not take Larry’s route?”
“That sounds like a good idea, sir. I won’t let you down.”
Word Count: 494 words
Sorry chaps, a bit late.
Seagreen, a fabulous little poem that sums up so many early Januarys for me.
Alex, you conjure the odious, or indeed, odorous boss so well. What a very nice twist.
Who to pick? If only because my month started exactly this way, well done Seagreen.
Sorry chaps, a bit late.
Seagreen, a fabulous little poem that sums up so many early Januarys for me.
Alex, you conjure the odious, or indeed, odorous boss so well. What a very nice twist.
Who to pick? If only because my month started exactly this way, well done Seagreen.
@Seagreen, really enjoyable story. I liked the change in emotion.
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