Mr. Eden

Day 862, 16:37 • Published in USA USA • by Old Man Jenkins67

I walk into the men’s room and stand at the sink, staring at my face in the mirror. In the harsh fluorescent light, I’m shocked at how pale and old I look. I splash my face with water and walk to the towel dispenser, which is empty. My hands still dripping, I go into a stall to get some toilet paper, which shreds in my fingers. I wipe my hands on my pants.

I return to the table where my boss, Mr.Eden, is waiting. When I ask for a cup of decaffeinated coffee, he calls it “a blind old bear baited by a toothless terrier,” and when my mousse arrives, he refers to it as “a white chocolate mudslide.”

I rise from the table, standing at the elevator, knowing I will quit, I can see my life spinning into an enormous set of possibilities, and living in the shadow of complete destruction.

I comfort myself by thinking that we’re all lost, all accident victims on the highway of life. We’re all parachutists whose ripcord has come loose in our hands, the map-like surface of the earth hurtling like a huge hammer against us...

The Modern Drunkard


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