The flush.
Recently, he hasn’t been feeling well. It’s not like anything spectacular or tragic happened, it is this sense of detachment that comes with loosing grip. If he is being honest with himself, he didn’t treat himself right. It’s all just temporary, he lies to himself. Jake who sits in the next cubicle could even see it and hear it. He is embarrassed.
“Hey, are you alright? You look a little off, my dude!”, drawing on his plastic vape pen, exhaling Watermelon-Cottoncandy supreme.
It made him even more sick. Maybe it’s the people around me, he asked himself. Maybe I just need to change my environment. That’s it, for sure. All will be good and I can finally find my peace.
He lied to himself.
Even at home he didn’t feel comfortable anymore. Nothing provided coziness in his home.
“That’s called Hygge my dude.”
Shut up Jake.
Usually he can endure those scrolling, ponytailed, high-confidence, higher-anxiety, e-Scooting, Tinder-dating, Craft-everything-drinking, non-farting types of people.
Not today, Jake!
And that’s for all the Jakes out there, and those who aren’t called Jake but act like Jake and sorry to those who are accidentally included here but are actually not a Jake.
The thought of the word Jake made him flinch and tension. A sudden release. Satisfaction. Bliss.
He stood up and pushed the button. The toilet flushed.
Thanks,
Jake.