12/08/2019
The man— tired of his meaningless life, a meaningless life with no purpose, working eight to five at a dead end job selling useless paper products to companies that did not need the products (Paper products that were marketed as previously being used and recycled was instead previously used and never recycled) products that his company lied to other companies about and solely was for the making of money, which he never saw nor did he earn more than minimum wage (8.25 an hour) so he would work multiple jobs daily to try to bring in enough money to keep himself fed and to keep a roof over his head— drove his 2008 Mazda 5 van, this nice dark red vehicle with tinted windows and a broken fender from a collision he had when he was in school (a collision that could have been avoided if the other driver was aware of the situation and was focused on the road ahead of her, instead of focusing on her phone) a van that he had had since his graduation— a graduation day that was filled with sadness at the death of his younger sister at age seven, who passed away in a surgical malpractice incident that arose from an incompetant doctor and a cancer that had been aggressive since she was four years old, costing them her life and the job of the doctor; costing him the sister that was always there for him, that would make him smile on rainy days, that would always be there for him, the sister that would no longer be there— he drove to the cliffside that he and his sister would always come to, and on this, the 40th anniversary of her death and the 10th anniversary of the death of his parents (leaving him as the only living member of his family), he parked the car and opened two bottles of Pepsi, taking them over to the grave stone that stood atop the cliff reading the name of his sister; setting down the Pepsi beside the grave stone, he rests his back on the cold stone and watches the sunset on this, the 40th anniversary of him losing his best friend.
http://coereview.org/2019/12/08/untitled-by-simon-walker/
The man— tired of his meaningless life, a meaningless life with no purpose, working eight to five at a dead end job selling useless paper products to companies that did not need the products (Paper…