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Life in the lag lane — 1

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He opened his eyes and lent his senses to take it all in.

It was the first day of the week to come.

It was the worst day of the week to come.

He worked as a cashier in one of the local supermarkets. His work routine involved showing up at work right on time to handle the rush hour traffic and leaving right after lunch.

He was offered the evening shift initially, but, the girl who worked at the restaurant opposite had the morning shift and youthful idiocy got him here.

His fastest route to work was taking the bus that could pick him ten blocks away from his apartment, but, he preferred taking the subway.

It cost more, but, it bought him time, time he spent siphoning off seconds off his life. To him it was all worth it.

He picked up smoking when he ran away from home. Now he had to smoke every time he thought about home.

Every puff bringing death closer faster.

The road outside was filled with the rats headed for work. His head turned inside out with every honk a truck made.

Getting up involved banging his head on the attic if he wasn’t careful, living in an attic had its perks though. He paid close to nothing, which helped, because he made close to nothing.

His room was filled with the smell of everything that was wasted at the supermarket.

This was his life. It was all worth it.

He coughed as he lifted his bed up to take the pressed uniform for the day. The dirt on the floor rivalled only by the dirt on his bed.

Four months ago was the first time she had knocked on his door to get to work together, she was rummaging through her bag as he opened the door and her hair was all over the place. She brushed her hair aside giving him the clearest view of her jet black eyes before she wished him a good morning and asked him if she could use his restroom.

A tradition began that day that was the only thing that kept him alive.

Being a 17 year old alone in the city didn’t help.

He opened the door before she could knock and let her in, today was finally worth it.

“Good morning”

“Good morning”

“Ready to go?”

“Yeah, in a minute, I need my whistle”

She managed to say, “Hurry up! You know I get docked half a days salary for”, before she was interrupted by the sound of the whistle.

“Sorry, let’s go”

They were at the bus stop, shoe gazing through the monday morning blues till the bus came.

The bus was supposed to be here by now, his watch said the bus was late by two minutes, not that this surprised him, he didn’t remember the last time the bus came on time. He looked down the road, through the traffic and noticed the red speck that was his bus.

“It’s almost here, you want to walk to it?”

“Sure, I’d rather be sitting right now”

They knocked on the door to get the driver to open it. He let loose some expletives as he opened it.

He heard the start of a shot.

His ears were ringing, she was on the road. He had blood on his shirt.

He saw the driver running away.

Nothing made sense.

The week had just begun.