Why Do I Keep Counting
The haunting romance of a life unlived.
He breathes out billows of smoke after he takes another drag from the cigarette. His second in as many hours. He watches the smoke as it leaves the hot glow of the burning end. At first a steady stream that pillars upwards but as the smoke catches the wind, it breaks into a turbulent swirl.
He remembers his absent father. The promises broken mostly. Eagerly waiting on Sunday mornings for that promised made mid-week of a trip to the beach or the amusement park. He learnt to stop waiting by the time he turned 10.
He remembers the last girl he had been with. He had orchestrated the eventual break up to make it look like it was a case of irreconcilable differences while in actual fact he always had a problem with committment. Even though this was his own doing he does dream of settling down.
He changed jobs three times this year and is about to submit his resignation letter tomorrow. He was getting rather good at it. His first two letters were crafted carefully to explain his reluctance to stay not because of the boss, his job or the working environment. Instead he wrote of his intention of seeking greener pastures and getting as much exposure as possible while he was still young. The letter, his fourth, presently sitting calmly on his workdesk does not even occupy a page fully. The letterhead, formalities like "Dear Sir" and "Yours Sincerely" and set margins already dominated the greater part of the page.
He moves to light another cigarette. Clasping his lips firmly around the filter and sucking in slightly as he press down his thumb to ignite the lighter. He brings the flame to the cigarette and then his cheeks collapsed evidently as he inhaled. He blinked away a tear that had intractably welled up when he exhaled.
He breathes out billows of smoke after he takes another drag from the cigarette. His second in as many hours. He watches the smoke as it leaves the hot glow of the burning end. At first a steady stream that pillars upwards but as the smoke catches the wind, it breaks into a turbulent swirl.
He remembers his absent father. The promises broken mostly. Eagerly waiting on Sunday mornings for that promised made mid-week of a trip to the beach or the amusement park. He learnt to stop waiting by the time he turned 10.
He remembers the last girl he had been with. He had orchestrated the eventual break up to make it look like it was a case of irreconcilable differences while in actual fact he always had a problem with committment. Even though this was his own doing he does dream of settling down.
He changed jobs three times this year and is about to submit his resignation letter tomorrow. He was getting rather good at it. His first two letters were crafted carefully to explain his reluctance to stay not because of the boss, his job or the working environment. Instead he wrote of his intention of seeking greener pastures and getting as much exposure as possible while he was still young. The letter, his fourth, presently sitting calmly on his workdesk does not even occupy a page fully. The letterhead, formalities like "Dear Sir" and "Yours Sincerely" and set margins already dominated the greater part of the page.
He moves to light another cigarette. Clasping his lips firmly around the filter and sucking in slightly as he press down his thumb to ignite the lighter. He brings the flame to the cigarette and then his cheeks collapsed evidently as he inhaled. He blinked away a tear that had intractably welled up when he exhaled.
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1 comment:
dang, sounds like my life story in summary.
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