Beginning of a short story about a man's last day I'm writing. |
Robert woke feeling like he hadn't felt in years. All the dread and hatered about going in to work this morning was simply gone. The one thought that stayed at the front of his mind “After today, I'm done. I can go where I want and do what I want.” Regardless of consequences Robert was sure of his course. He went through his typical morning routine with a little more snap than usual. He made himself a simple breakfast, dressing in his usual khaki pants and button up long sleeve dress shirt, he looked as if nothing was different, except for the gleam in his eye. On his way out the door he double checked everything to make sure it was all in order, checked his email one last time to ensure that his contacts hadn't reneged on him, and he was out the door. Robert slid behind the wheel of his 88 Cheverolet Sprint, a very small car, stuck the key in the ignition and turned. The only sound that greeted Roberts ears was a dead, dull click. He turned the key a few more times, nothing, He popped the hood and check the connections to the battery. They were all secure. “No problem I just have to walk a few blocks, catch the bus, and I'll be on my way.” Robert was determined nothing would bring his mood down this morning of all mornings. Robert started off towards the bus stop three blocks away, when he glanced down at his watch. He only had 3 minutes before the bus got there, he picked up the pace, deep inside convinced he wouldn't make it in time, but relentlessly clinging to whatever hope he could find. He ran on. |