He was heading back to the one place he never wanted to see again. What had formerly been a place that gave him great joy, full of people he loved and cared deeply for, a place he never thought he’d want to leave, had turned into the object of everything he felt was wrong with life, the world, and the rest of the universe.

Naturally this anxiety didn’t start as he began his journey, but the night before. It had only been a short while since he’d last been to that place. He would argue it had been too short a while since he’d last been to that place. Every minute he spent anywhere else, he should have been enjoying. Instead he found his mind drifting back to that place. That godforsaken place. He couldn’t escape that place no matter how hard he tried.

It was in his dreams. It was there when he was awake. He would hear about it around town. He would hear about it on television, on the radio, on the internet. He couldn’t escape it, no matter how hard he tried. It was like the more he tried to avoid it, the more he tried to not think about it, there it was. Like that one fly in your house. Like that one mosquito in your ear. Like that one wasp buzzing about your porch. You could just ignore it, but you won’t. Because you know it’s there. And it knows your fears, your sadness, your stress, and your anger.

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

Others seemed perfectly unaware of that place. Even when they spoke about it, it wasn’t in hushed tones for fear of being heard by the place itself. Instead it was open, with joy, or at least appreciation. They didn’t know the truth. They didn’t know what that place had done to him.

Forget about it if you wish, it’s still there. Those thoughts never left his head the night before, as he stared at the clock, wishing to get some sleep, knowing that each minute he failed to fall asleep was one minute closer to when he had to face that place again. One less minute of sleep. On the off chance he could sleep without thinking about that damn place.

Before he knew it, the alarm had gone off. He rose, showered, dressed, and got into his car, accepting that, though he could escape, he could choose not to go, he could do anything to get out of it, the place had a tight hold over him, in such a way that his very life was tied to the success of that place. So on he drove, reminding himself that it would be okay. That he wasn’t there forever. That it was only temporary.

He arrived at the place, strode inside to the one in charge, and before he could say a word, the one in charge said, “You’re late. We changed your schedule last week, you were supposed to be here an hour ago. Get clocked in and get on the grill.”

Dammit. Why don’t they ever call when they change the schedule?