- Published: Thursday, 31 July 2014 22:35
- Written by Dylan Goforth
It had been a rough what, three years now? Four? Christ. He stared at the pack of cigarettes sitting on his desk. He'd told himself that he'd quit so many times he almost believed it, but there were those smokes, staring at him. Is this what fat people feel like when they pass a fast food restaurant, he wondered? Probably.
"Do I even like this job? What am I getting out of it," he asked himself. He hated that he didn't have a good answer. Maybe he'd risen too far, too fast. He'd been considered a curiosity at first. "Oh look, the cute little kid, right out of college. He thinks he's people." Maybe they were right, maybe he's not "people." He'd quickly set out to prove that, and he'd done it.
Before long, everyone in his field feared him. It gave him a queer sense of joy at first, but before long he'd come to almost hate it. He was barely 30 years old when he discovered he had nothing left to prove, so he started setting out strange goals for himself.Add a comment