*
Maybe I should've kept my shoes on, thought the man looking
down at a pair of leather oxfords he had neatly arranged on the sidewalk. He
loved those cognac colored shoes. He stared at the deep dark in front of him. I’m
so depressed, he thought. The whole world is depressed…except maybe a few of
them who are not yet aware of their beings and the futility of human existence. Or
those lucky ones with endocrine imbalance who unintentionally possess more
serotonin than we normal depressives. But if that’s the case, then why am I the
only one standing here on this railing, on this bridge, above a water abyss that
does not forgive? Where are the others like me? Am I the weakest? Or the
bravest? Am I the most conscious? My wife left me for another. She said that he
is an alpha male and I’m not. I am some delta or omega or some other letter
nobody knows about. My ex-boss is also an alpha male. He said that himself
once. Not yesterday when he was firing me. Yesterday he only said that I am a
strong person, and that it’s great that I don’t have a wife and kids to
support. Nor a dog, nor a cat. The wife left. The kids we did not conceive
waiting for some better times that never came. I don’t like dogs because they
jump on me and leave dirty marks. And cats, I am allergic to them. But those
are all extenuating circumstances. I have nothing and nobody. Lucky me. That’s
what my boss said. Marie from accounting was sorry to see me go. I think her
eyes teared up a little, but it could have been the fluorescent office light reflecting
in her glasses. They are thick those glasses. Possibly plus three. Maybe even
four. Who knows what she even sees through those glasses. Maybe she thinks I’m
handsome. I think her eyes are green. She has a big nose. Luckily she wears
glasses so they visually make it smaller. Although I like women with big noses.
They look strong. Maybe it’s a fetish. Her lips are nice, like little
cherries. I wonder if she is a good kisser. I wonder what kind of a kisser I am
given that my wife left with another man. In all fairness, her kisses were not that
great either. When I asked her why she left me she said timing. As if that’s an
explanation. She said I was behind in modern lingo so I don’t understand. I’m
not hip. I don’t follow trends. I don’t have a beard. Her alpha male does. I
met him. And I like him, what can I say. He’s cool. Marie from accounting said
I should give her a call. Like privately. She gave me her cellphone number.
What does that mean? She is not married. Maybe she is interested in me. Not all women like beards. And she
said my shoes were nice. They are nice. Maybe I should’ve kept them on. This railing is cold. My ex didn’t ask for anything when we divorced. She said I
should keep everything. Most of the things were mine to begin with, but a lot
of women would ask for what is not rightfully theirs. The ex-wife of my alpha
male ex-boss took everything from him. My apartment is big. Maybe I should sell
it and get a smaller one, and then start my own business with whatever money’s
left. Become my own boss. Advance from a delta male to an alpha one. Climb to
the very top of that Greek ladder. Open a shoe store. A fancy shoe store, like
the one I bought these shoes in. They are
beautiful. I love that cognac leather. I would love a glass of cognac right
now, to warm up and toast. Maybe I’m not depressed. Maybe I’m just a little bit
worried about my future. But isn’t it normal to be worried when finding
yourself on a crossroad of life and trying to choose the right way to go? I am
choosing my path and I am afraid not to make a mistake because life flows like
this dark river below and there is less and less time. It needs to be spent in
a good way. Smartly. The marriage with my ex was nothing to brag about, really.
We were not compatible at all and she did me a favor by leaving. And if I hadn’t
been fired, this idea of opening my own business would’ve never crossed my
mind. My shoe store is going to have the best shoes. Like these oxford beauties
on the sidewalk. And I’m going to call Marie and ask her out. I think she likes
me. I like her, too. I find her thick glasses attractive. And when she takes
everything else off and leaves only the glasses…I’d like to see that. I’m gonna call her tonight. I feel better now. Excited about life. I feel like my mind has
somehow cleared up. Well, I am standing at the edge of this tall bridge, high
on this railing here…the air is clean. Although it’s foggy. Who is that dawdling
like a ghost at the end of the bridge? Looks like some drunk bum. He is getting
closer. I better get down before he sees me. I don’t want to explain
that I am not going to jump, now that I’ve changed my mind. And I want to put
my shoes on and not stand here in my socks like a fool. Here…what is that?
Where is this thundering coming from? Why is the bridge shaking? And...and swaying. What is going
on?! I slipped! I’m losing balance! If I fall on the sidewalk I will surely get
all bruised as this railing is quite high. But no, I’m falling forward! I’m plunging
into the dark river! No! I wanted to come down! The dark is swallowing me. Was
that an earthquake? Just now when I decided to call Marie! And what about my
shoes? Marie will think that I jumped. Everybody will think that I jumped. I
did not jump!!! The railing was slippery. I knew I should’ve kept my shoes on…the
heel would've stuck and prevented me from slipping like this…my shoes, my beautiful sho—
*
What is happening, thought the drunkard while running in
circles in panic. It had happened before that he would feel weak from too much
booze, but this was different. Like a war starting. Or the end of the world. And
then the trembling stopped and everything became quiet again. Was this an
earthquake or is the alcohol making me lose my mind? He sat on the sidewalk for
his mind to clear. The figure he had seen standing on the railing was gone. I
have to stop drinking, he thought. Or drink less. Or just change what I drink. He
slowly got up and continued walking down the bridge. What a weird night. Maybe
I’m not even drunk. Actually, maybe I didn’t drink enough so I’m seeing and feeling
things that aren’t. Then he saw them, on the sidewalk in front of him, neatly
arranged – a pair of beautiful cognac leather shoes. He stopped and looked
around. There was nobody. He took one shoe and gently ran his fingertips over
the wingtip seams. He looked around again, and again there was nobody. Then he
took off his old, scuffed boots and put on the oxford brogues. They were a
little tight, but the leather was soft and soft leather gives in, he thought. They
stood in a huge contrast to his raggedy clothes but they were just too beautiful
to leave them behind. That was the kind of shoes that he would be buying if he
had money. Shoes just like those. He took his old boots and hurled them over
the fence into the river. Then in his new shoes he went on wobbling down the
bridge, slowly disappearing into the fog washed by the orange street lights.
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