One Day

He walked in the door and tossed his keys down on the table. Standing there by the doorway, he paused to notice the silence. He loved it and he hated it. He looked forward to it and dreaded it. All in all, it was his silence, and it was alright.

It had been some time since it all went down and the shock was fading away. He had begun to settle into a bit of a groove now. He knew how the evening would go. First, he stopped by the refrigerator to get something to drink. He wasn’t eating much lately, but his thirst had increased to make it up to his growling belly. It was a tall, wide, blue cup. He filled it all the way up, took some off the top, and filled it back up again. No ice, it gets in the way.

He and the drink made it to the living room. The drink sat on the table, Gandy chose the couch. His thumb tapped on the television. The news. It was the same thing everyday. Somewhere, somebody famous died. Everywhere, thousands of non-famous people did the same. Governments grew. The weather happened. Teams played; some won, some lost. Anchors seemed concerned about the issue of the day. Was enough being done? Are you aware of the dangers?
On the music channel, none of the really good artists’ music was played. The history station showed footage of World War II. An incredible cleaning agent that would remove motor oil and wine stains from both carpeting and lace was offered. A tough, handsome cop battled bad guys in a way that didn’t please his superior officers. There were instructions on how to create beautiful wreaths from pinecones and a hot glue gun. A faster, smaller computer hit the market.
A man and his two daughters struggled to find peace after a bitter divorce had split the family.

It was noise. Words buzzed in his ear. It made him sleepy. He stretched out on the couch and closed his eyes.

At eight he opened his eyes again. It was dark and cool, and the buzzing continued. He found the remote control between the cushions, dug it out, and clicked off the drone. His clothes were still quite on, so he hit the door.

So many stars. A million, billion, trillion? Even if there were ten billion trillion stars and life-bearing planets for each of them, the effect remained the same. Standing where he stood looking out at infinity he had no doubt that no greater being than himself existed anywhere.

Walk out to the road and then pick up the pace. Jogging, running, tapping into his thoughts, letting his brain open up on itself. A two-word cadence. As the left foot struck, “Fuck.” And the right foot, “Off.” Fuck. Off. Fuck. Off. Fuck. Off. Fuck. Off. And so on.

It happened that way until he was wherever he was now out of breath and sweaty. He bent over and grabbed his knees. He tried to catch his breath but it was too fast for him now. Turning around, he noticed a tree beckoning him to lean against it. He accepted the offer.

Calm once again, the cigarette brought comfort. What was it? Why did he know, know there was no one or no thing greater or better than himself? He hadn’t always known it. In fact, until recently he hadn’t even considered the possibility. It had never occurred to him. What was different?

Peas porridge hot, peas porridge cold. Peas porridge in a pot nine days old. If he was so great why couldn’t he make a connection to another human being that wasn’t contrived? Why didn’t anyone else see him for what he was? He flicked away the cigarette, got up, and walked back home.