The Window

by Tim Bloodfield


It was a day like any other day: you get out of bed and try to get mobile, and most important, you explain to yourself the necessity of enduring the daily grind. You are about to embark on the same mind-numbing, tediously redundant commute to a job that follows the same daily pattern as every day. You do it anyway because it is your duty as an adult. When you are growing up you idolize the fun things about being an adult but you find out that it all was overrated and being an adult really sucks.


As a market analyst it is no party like it’s your birthday but I am really good at it so I make the best of it. My day went like any other: I prioritize, analyze and marginize data. I dream like any other stuck-in-a-rut schmuck that wants more out of life but never gets the opportunity or most likely the motivation to pursue the finer things in life as the wealthy that have all those things would say. But again, it is my duty as an adult to drudge on no matter how soul killing it may be and yet still cling to the hope of better days.

The day went by surprisingly fast with no added annoyance. Jane went on and on about her cat getting stuck in one of her flower vases. She had to break it to get Wally Whiskers (yes, that is her cat’s name) out of the vase. I guess if that was the worst of my day that is an acceptable carnage and I will survive. As usual my work is twenty minutes away but it takes me an hour and a half to get home; nothing different there. It doesn’t matter anyway; there isn’t anyone at home waiting for me. I was married…once. My wife had a different idea about being married than I did. She thought that the tennis instructor she was seeing would suit her better—and so did I—so now it is just me, my TV and my computer. I am ok with that. Maybe one day I will get back out there but for now I am just fine. I do like being at home. It is my fortress of gratitude—with that I mean that I am grateful that I am not at work right now. I get home, grab me a beer and sit down in front of the TV just like yesterday and the day before that. I plop down on my couch and begin my afternoon ritual consisting of a beer and a courtroom drama—oh yes, living life with no boundaries. Today I decided to change it up and watch a movie and live on the wild side. I like action movies. I like something that shows me there is a life of adventure but you have to get your ass off the couch to be involved in it. The microwave dinged; my Hungry Man dinner was ready. I ate my dinner veggies and all. The movie was a rockem sockem blow-everything-up movie just the way I like it. I was getting into the movie; there was a part that there wasn’t much going on. It was quiet, the type of silence where you know that something is about to go wrong. I heard what sounded like glass breaking. I thought that is odd, there wasn’t any part of the scene that had glass breaking, that was random to throw in that kind of sound effect, but whatever. I then noticed that the screen was not moving. What the hell, NetFix? I started to reach for the remote on the coffee table but I could not move. I began to panic. What is going on? Am I having a stroke or something? I tried to move but nothing was happening. I really began to panic. I am stroking out I am going to die right here. I thought, If I can at least get to my phone I can call 911. But no matter how hard I tried I could not move. I keep trying to move but nothing happened. I thought, I am already dead. I could see through my peripheral vision something running down my nose. I couldn’t move my eyes to see clearly but—It looked like blood. I tried to scream but it was only in my head; nothing came out. I went into anger mode: I don’t give a stack of shit ten feet high what is wrong. If it is my time then whatever. Then remorse set in. I didn’t have much to live for but I still wanted to live. Then sadness came. I thought about my ex-wife. I could have been a better husband. Maybe kids would have helped us. But actually I didn’t feel anything, which I thought was weird. I could not even cry. I was still glued to the TV, still wondering what has happened to me. I searched the room for any clues. As I said I could not move my eyes. It made it hard to see what was going on around me, but for some reason I noticed something out of place on the window. The front of my home has a double window. I like to sit and watch TV and have the blinds open to see the world go by. I love looking at the outside but I am not interested in being outside. There was one of the panes of the window broken. I remembered hearing the glass breaking; I just didn’t realize it was my window. I couldn’t see what broke it so I tried to focus on just that area. Not being able to move made this task impossible but I had to try. The more I focused, the clearer it became: there was a hole about ten millimeters in diameter. It was directly aligned with my position on the couch. The weight of epiphany hit me: I had been shot. What I see running down my nose was blood. I had been shot in the head. The next thought was, Is this hell? Am I condemned to spending eternity like this? What could I have done to deserve this, God? I began to accept my fate. All the regrets flooded my thoughts or whatever this is. This collage of memories, good and bad, seemed to run on for what seemed like hours, but was only a few seconds. It was getting dark. It is hard to explain all that rushes through your mind at the end. You try to make peace with everything and ask forgiveness for the wretched life you have led. I knew my time was up. I then began to see a bright light surrounding me and filling the whole room. This was it.

The End



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