Fiction: Soggy bottom boy

09 May 2014 /

Standing on the street corner, waiting to cross, as the pitter patter drip drop of rain falls from above. Feet slightly damp, jacket wet, umbrella slippery in my hand. I take a deep breath of cool, fresh, moist air and exhale slowly as I step into the street, eye-balling the traffic to ward off any oncoming traffic. I cross briskly and take a leap over a puddle onto the sidewalk, under the scaffolding briefly, and to the door. I fumble with my umbrella with the door half open, not wanting to get a single drop more of water on me than I have to. As I step into the entry I slide slightly on the slick hard-wood floors and then step up the stairs. An eerie quite falls over the office as the weather seems to have affected the speed of sound. Everyone is subdued and talks softer than normal, I think the rain has an effect on the mind, calming for sure, therapeutic. I remove my jacket and power on my computer, sitting at my desk I remember I have a package that should have arrived. I excitedly charge toward the door to the stairs, push open the door and start down the stairs. Thud thud, thud thud, down the stairs, thud thud, thud thud. Flailing on the third to last step, I feel myself loosing my balance and gravity getting the best of me. My body becomes a projectile without an ounce of coordination. As my slip propels me forward I glance from the rainy scene out the window to the floor below. Thwack! …my chin hits the floor full force, planking to the ground. Nighttime, good night… off to bed… never to get up again.