It began as a tickle in the back of my mind. The best way I can describe it that it was like a kind of sneeze that you can feel starting to come on but it never actually develops, at least not at first. Days into it the tickle grew into a something akin to what it must be like when a person, too lazy to take out the kitchen garbage can, instead shoves their foot down into it as they try to shove it further in.
I miss those days.
Stepping off from where she was leaning against the wall, the questionnaire lady moves to intercept me. “Excuse me sir-“. Not bothering to weave around her, she bounces right off my shoulder. She lets out a startled cry, “Hey!” She might have a bruise for a few days, it would go away. Her tone, now much sharper, shouted towards my back, “You don’t have to be such a jerk.”
Ahead of me and elderly man is standing beside a tree holding the leash to his little fucking rat dog. The little fucker is dropping it’s load but the man isn’t paying it much attention, his focus is on the stopped UPPS truck back a few yards off to his side. He is watching the driver bending over the ice and picking up the parcels she just dropped on the ice. I can see the corners of his mouth curl up in a perverted grin. I can only guess the last time he got anywhere something looking like that was back in the 70’s which is where his wardrobe had also come from.
The dog, finished with its business, starts yapping up to its owner. I find myself surprised at the discovery that the little bastards where even capable of stopping.
The jarring surging pulses of pain in my mind are in perfect sync with my pace. If there was any kind of upside to this is would be that I am making excellent time.
I pass by the old man still standing there and now have a clearer view of the UPPS woman still bent over. I think about cursing him out for his vulgarness but then catch myself as I discover the masterpiece the creepy crusty fart stumbled upon. She really is a piece of work. She looks as if she was born of the same mold used for the gods themselves. I guess that is one of the perks of working a physical job is that you probably never have to step foot into a gym.
My foot makes contact with the ground again and with it comes another surge of pain. This snaps me out of my Genghis Kahn like thinking and back to my own issues. I bring my focus back ahead of once more and that is when I spot the excessively expensive suit at the bus stop looking my way. No not my way, directly at me.
My brain starts to itch again.