The sudden crinkle of the bag next to my ear jolted me,
“Here you go. Bye,” an overworked coffee store owner stared at me, dead eyed and expectant as they shook the crinkled white bag as an invitation.
I grabbed it and replied in an equally elated tone, “Thanks,” and proceeded to heft the small bag to my passenger seat. The mediocre roar of my 2008 Chevy Cobalt reminded the overworked barista that I was an important individual and had places to go despite it being 2:00 PM on a Tuesday and I was dressed to the nines in my cozy best.
After two solid minutes of coasting, I pulled off. The crunch of the gravel on concrete was heard as I pulled to a stop on the side of the dead road.
Alright, time to crack into the best part of the day -- I hype myself up as I rubbed my hands together like a feral goblin about to get into some stolen meats and cheeses.
I thrust my sandwich-grabber into the bag, finding the warm prize deep inside. With great effort I freed the tasty treasure from its prison. A familiar plastic sound filled the cutting silence in the car as I unwrapped my long-awaited breakfast.
A slow, horrid, frown began to form and curl my lips downward as I was greeted by, not my anticipated and loving bacon, but a rather disappointing and horrifying sausage patty.
My eyes drifted to the side view mirror and glanced back in the direction of the coffee shop. I cursed the barista’s name, “Damn you… uh,” my eyes darted to the dashboard, then the cast aside bag, “… uh, well, damn you anyway.” I could complain, I could summon the demons deep within myself and really give them that audacity.
I leaned against the side of the driver side door, the familiar coolness of the metal of the seat belt clip grounded me back to reality. Who needed to wear those anyway?
Familiar hazel eyes met my own in the rear-view mirror, I brushed the brown hair from my eyes. “Come on, my guy. Are you giving up that easily?”
A familiar tone chirped, rather suddenly and horrifyingly, over the Bluetooth connection on my car speakers. I could feel my heart skip a beat as I wrapped my fingers around my phone. My reflection stares back at me as I await the phone to yield the security and grant me its’ boon of newfound information. It was an email.
“Thank you for your application and your interest in the intriguing role at ZephyrPharma,” the tone was cold and boring but I had some hope. My eyes continued to rapidly scan as my thumb rubbed the cracked screen upwards. The email continued, “… after thorough evaluation, we regret to inform you that we have chosen another candidate for the posi—" An audible groan escaped from my mouth unallowed as I spiked my phone into the cushioned seat next to me. The false breakfast sandwich mocked me. “You’re not a good sandwich, you’re not a bacon egg and cheese,” I mocked it back, narrowing my eyes. The sausage egg and cheese remained unphased but said nothing in reply.
My fingers found the phone on the seat and I pulled it back to my face to finish the bad news, “While your qualifications and enthusiasm were evident, we ultimately selected a candidate whose expertise better aligns with our unique needs in—”
“Got’cha!” My thumb motioned upward and held it there. The email was suddenly suspended in the application purgatory. Would I dare close the app?
I thwipped my thumb and sent the email application upwards and into the ether. A small victory in the face of great defeat. This had become a common theme and a newfound routine. A rollercoaster of small joys that more often than not, turned into small annoyances.
My finger pressed the button to my left and the window rolled down in response. My eyes looked to the empty road, then to my sandwich. I quickly grab it and wrap my lips around that mediocre, room temperature, breakfast. No point in going back and complaining, what do they care?
My chest expands as I clear my thoughts. Partially because I did not want to eat sausage today but also because my inner voice just felt like it was getting more and more negative as the days went on. The sandwich remains were promptly deposited back into the bag and I gripped the warm paper cup containing the one thing that, hopefully, was not incorrect.
I lifted the coffee to my lips and tilted the paper cup back. I was greeted by that familiar coffee aroma laced with that forbidden spice, “Thank Christ it is pumpkin season,” the spice fiend said aloud to no one in particular. The crisp autumn air crept into the car atmosphere as if to punctuate the moment and remind everyone that it is Fall. The season is Fall.
The distant clash of metal on metal could be heard in the distance. The road was quiet and hardly used for the most part but in the rear-view an 18-wheeler could be seen. I thought nothing of it and turned my gaze to the patch of trees to my right.
I wonder how long I can idle here before a cop tells me to keep it movin’. I could go home and try more applications… I huffed a deep and depressing breath. I wasn’t as forlorn as I made myself appear but this routine was getting old. And fast. I only had so many dollars left to casually spend on wrong sandwiches and room temperature coffee.
A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.
As the thoughts raced and the shitty committee in my brain hurled a roar of insults my way, I spotted something curious in the treeline nearby.
Striking blue eyes stared at me. Not me. My soul, maybe. The eyes belonged to a black and brown cat. One of those fancy Siamese cats you see in that questionable Didney movie. It looked small but not feral, maybe it got loose from its’ bougie owner.
“Sup little dude,” I said to no one in my car. If cat ears are sensitive, it may have heard me but it was a good few dozen feet away.
My eyes returned to the rear-view. The truck was fast approaching. I took another contemplative sip as my eyes darted from the cat to the truck. He better not dart around the road. I glanced at the incoming truck again and then found my fingers subconsciously caressing the handle to open my door.
A booming horn could be heard from the 18-wheeler. It would soon be upon us.
The door was open and my feet found the concrete. I hoisted myself from the car, “Hey, c’mon little guy. What are you doing out here?” The Siamese tilted its head curiously at me as it sat on the concrete. “Let’s get you out of this road.”
Coffee still in my right hand, the left outstretched to the cat. The loud rattling of the metals on the 18-wheeler could be heard and now they were laying on the horn.
And that was when it struck me.
Distant cries could be heard and the horn, loud at first, grew quieter as the distance increased.
I turned my head to see an old man holding a sign. The sign read ‘Honk if you support Doug Cremeley for School Board!’
“Huh, maybe I should get my CDL. I think truck drivers earn a lot.” I shrugged, taking another sip of my coffee. Shockingly the cat did not scamper away, it simply sat there on the side of the road watching my every move.
I extended my hand to the feline, allowing it a cursory sniff to ascertain if I was a fiend or friend. He extended his head to get a decent whiff, then looked back at me. Guess I passed. I smirked with confidence.
The curious feline bounded backwards and onto the grassy knoll on the side of the quiet road.
“Is that where you live?” It was a nearby wooded area. Nothing interesting to note except it was just a green space to break up the mediocre Americana industrial park. The cat continued to bound towards the tree line, but then paused to glance back at me.
“This is the part where I ask if you want me to follow you. You probably won’t say anything but will just continue on your path, eh?” My arms gesticulated with each word as if I were trying to convince this cat of my genius.
The Siamese cat nodded once, then turned forward to continue on its path.
My brows couldn’t have furrowed faster if they wanted to.
Swiftly, my inner narrator highlighted the moment. That’s not normal.
I bounded back to my car to rip the keys from the ignition and prod at the key fob a few times. The car happily honked a confirmation at me that everything was safe and secure and that it would scream for me if someone tried to break in.
I was now Siamese cat bound. I made a silent prayer to avoid the ticks as I waded into the grassy sidewalk and through the pine trees, large hot pumpkin coffee in hand. As I crossed the tree line the air began to feel noticeably cooler. The seasons were finally breaking and the start of the depressing New England winter would soon follow.
A beckoning “mow” could be heard in the distance. I found myself in a small break in the trees, a sandbox sized patch of grass before the pine trees barred my entrance further. The Siamese cat observed me from the other side of the open area. My eyes looked it over for any sort of collar but alas.
“Is this your hang out?” I was feeling inquisitive.
The cat slowly closed its eyes, then opened them again to stare again.
I shifted my weight, hand still held onto the coffee on my right. I glanced behind me and could see small windows in the trees revealing the road and my precious Chevy were not far behind. How long am I going to keep procrastinating? The parental question nagged my brain and I could feel the frustration building.
A sharp pain on my leg grounded me back to reality. I looked down to see the Siamese had full on starfish’d themselves to my left leg. The cheap cloth of the jeans screamed in protest, and I could feel those hook socks digging themselves into my supple flesh.
“Gah! Ayhhey! What’re you doing?!” Just as quickly as I had demanded an answer, the air seemed to shift entirely. It was preceded by a sudden blast of wind from the ground then, a bright blue pinprick of light in the center of the patch of grass behind the cat.
My heart began to race, I gripped my emotional support coffee tighter. Bright blue eyes flared up at me as the cat refused to let go. The pinprick grew more and more and suddenly it went from pinprick to black void.
The gust of wind returned but now it was returning from whence it came. The edges of my vision seemed to be pulled inwards towards the void. I felt like the start menu screen of Super Mayro 64. My face and body stretched grotesquely down deeper and deeper, the Siamese cat in tow holding tight. In the panic of the moment, I could have sworn I saw the tip of his tail glow the same ethereal blue.
I opened my mouth to scream but felt nothing, it was a pure vacuum of darkness.
Am I blind? Why can’t I see, why can’t I hear? My left hand reached out but felt only a stale, cold air caressing in response. The pain of the stowaway latched on to my leg was gone but now it was replaced with only the unknown.