I’D RATHER BE HERE

 

menial office paperwork

12 am on Monday morning.

Why am I here?

I shouldn’t be here, that’s what they keep telling me.

I should be in an office somewhere.

Perhaps in one of those telecommunications multi-corps.

Yeah, that sounds fancy. If I worked there they wouldn’t look at me the way I see them do.

I should be seated in one of those cushiony swivel chairs.

Penny from HR should be walking in right about now with a pile of menial paperwork in her hands.

Just place them there Penny, right next to my unfinished pile of menial paperwork on my desk.

The phone should be ringing.

That should be my boss; I know he’ll say how incompetent I am. How pathetic my performance is, like he did last week.

Maybe I should stand up to him more.

But what if he fires me?

Like he did Ben last week. And Veronica the week before.

And Justin about two fortnights ago… well actually, he quit.

I don’t want to end up like them. What would my life be?

I should put this coffee down. It’s my fourth cup today.

Which reminds me; I should try and leave work early today.

Kate said she’ll cover for me.

I should go for that check-up. I will not cancel my appointment again.

My head hasn’t stopped aching since that day Justin stormed out of here.

Maybe I’ll have time to cook myself a meal today if I leave the Dr’s office early.

And if I’m really on a roll, maybe I’ll pick up my guitar… play a little.

The traffic outside should have cleared by 3 pm.

Damn that incessant honking. It’s only making my headache worse.

I should skip lunch today, I know I said I wouldn’t; but I should carry on with this paperwork.

I can do this, I should be smiling,

I have a well-paying job, and they keep telling me I should be here.

atumn leaves falling at noon.jpg

12 am on Monday morning.

So why am I here?

I shouldn’t be here, that’s what they keep telling me.

This old folding lawn chair isn’t as uncomfortable as it looks.

Mr Hugh is walking his grey spaniel from across the street.

He gives me that look.. They all do.

I shouldn’t be here.

My phone buzzes in my pocket, must be Justin, calling to see if I’ll still have lunch with him.

A gush of wind blows through my hair.

It rustles through the spectacular array of red and yellow autumn leaves which fall from the trees lining up either side of the street.

The soft luminosity of sunlight sifts through the spaces between the trees.

The birds sing even louder.

I’m listening in silence.

It’s my turn to listen. They have been listening to my guitar’s song all morning.

I can see the bottom of my lemonade glass now.

Smiling, I put it down and lean back on my lawn chair.

Why shouldn’t I be here?

I am here, now.

I’d rather be here, now.

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