THE VOICE OF LITERATURE
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The voice of literature
......VOX LIT

OPEN NOTE ​A short story by Paul Johnson
 
I’ve been sitting here for three hours, I think it will be ok. I mean what could go wrong now? It’s funny I find, how people look at me like they don’t know me, I mean they don’t know me but...I guess I never realized how cold people could be.
Three days ago I thought I knew, I mean, when they did it all I thought I knew. Matt was so unconcerned with my well being, “You had a good run here, and put in alot of hard work” Yea, I know that, it was me that plunged my relationship into its darkest hour to work late for him, it was me that sacrificed my health and ate fast food for four years for him, it was me that worked three out of four christmases for him, It was me that tore my shoulder working late for him.
I know I “put in alot of hard work.”
It was me that went home to my girlfriend and told her, I acted like I wanted support but I was looking for a fight; a fight with Matt but I had to take it from her, she couldn’t give me a bad reference.
This is all Matt’s fault he should have said something or waited to fire me, he could have prevented this, if he hadn’t worked me so hard in the spring I wouldn’t have been injured, I wouldn’t have needed physio, and I wouldn’t have had thirty six Oxycodone in the cupboard.
She’s bound to feel terrible when she realizes what I went back into the house for.
 
I’ve been sitting here for three hours, I think it will be ok, I mean what could go wrong now? It’s funny I find, how people look at me like they don’t know me, I mean they don’t know me but...tomorrow at least one of them will tell somebody they saw me, I don’t look homeless which actually makes me look out of place, funny. I almost wish someone would save me now but it’s ok, it all has to end somewhere, right? Might as well end it with... you know, it’s funny I counted each of the thirty six pills... but it might as well end this way I suppose.
Of all the ways people have had to...you know, stop living, this is the best, last summer a child fell onto the tracks at this same train station, I think he was seven. No one thinks they’re gonna go that way when they’re seven, when I was seven I hadn’t really thought much about, life ending. I’m so tired and sometimes I want to puke but I don’t think I’m going to. Tomorrow people will be figuring out their life without me, next year on this day it’ll be so awkward at my parent’s house.
They’ll probably talk about my smile.
I think I’ll smile at the lady passing me, she has a kind face. I’m just so tired. I think I’ll close my eyes.
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  • Home
  • Features
    • The Writers' Think Tank
    • excerpts and articles
    • Authors at Work
    • Author chats
    • Literary Criticism
    • DR X - THE TRUE STORY
    • Book videos
  • book reviews
  • Writers' Notes
  • Contributors
  • Bookshop