I wonder if, in stretching to reach that which we do not have, we sometimes stretch ourselves too thin to hold on to that which we do.

I once stood on the tallest peak in the world, looking out over the curvature of the planet. I once sat upon the floor of the deepest trench in the ocean, watching a creature slowly crawl along its surface and knowing that mine were the only eyes to have done so. I once held the powers of creation itself in my hand, and knew that I could flatten that imposing peak; raise up that terrible abyss to the light of a day it had never known.

But that’s all gone, now. Slipped through my fingers. Having left only shadows in my mind.

Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.

“Excuse me? Hello?”

The voice snaps me back to reality, and I meet the eyes of a woman who is impatiently tapping her foot, her purchases sitting on the counter in front of me. I wordlessly scan them in and bag them for her.

“That’ll be nine ninety-nine.”

She sniffs and sets the cash down, grabbing her purchases and striding quickly out the door. She walks with purpose.

She must be stretching herself.

I rub my eyes and glance at my phone to check the time. 4:55. Five more minutes until the end of my shift. There is no sense of anticipation of an end to my work. Nor is there any desire to linger.

I don’t deserve to look forward to things anymore.