Bump into.

A Story by Danni Jones

There was an unsettling cold in the morning, the honking of trains could be heard from outside the station. I had delayed my work for long, part of my unpunctual routine was due to my disinterest in my job and the other half was a decry to the authority which was programmed in me since my pastoral roots. I was boarding my 7 A.M. train, suddenly a boy pushed me aside and hurried onto the train .I chose not to react as I'm usually a placid guy in the morning. The coach was almost empty, I put my bag on the seat and sat, sinking into morose, I had a bleak outlook of this world and since long I couldn't think why or why not I had it. The scenery in front of me kept changing, I kept gazing at it through the window while being distant, forecasting how the events of today would play out.

I had a job long enough to have my table filled with marks and walls stained with blood .Maybe I never fully grasped the dynamics of my job, so I kept resenting it from within while only giving subtle hints to my comrades. I don't have many comrades though, cause my work allows the unkempt presumably precious mortality of a conscious to be squandered for attaining selfish goals for my bosses. While my lust for unbounded materialistic world extinguishes any morality left in me. I never allow myself to be charged for my predicament, I prefer to take myself as a by-product of this society. Sometimes I also contemplated whether I was born only as a projection of a man's other side of consciousness .

My stop was next, I pulled myself out of my thoughts and opened my bag. I put on a pair of black surgical gloves and took out my working equipment. I attached a missing part to its end and stood up. I started to make my way towards my assignment. Since our encounter this morning, I only wished he hadn't bumped into me.