Budgie’s Journal #22 – Flash Fiction: An Empty Tuesday Morning
There is a man named Dennis.
Dennis pushes away everything he loves or could love, refusing to give it the chance to flourish and survive. He’s somehow content, wallowing in his lonely purgatory, waiting for forgiveness he hasn’t earned from a woman who rarely speaks to him.
But simply being content doesn’t mean he’s happy.
Dennis asks himself “why?” nearly every morning, especially on Tuesdays. For some reason, Tuesdays hurt the most. He wonders why he allowed those he loved to push themselves away. He thought she’d truly be happy without him, but he now knows that isn’t the case. She’s just as hurt by this separation as he is.
It’s in Dennis’s nature to push everything nearly to the brink of destruction before appreciating it for what it is. But sometimes it’s pushed too far, and it can’t be dragged back from the cliff’s edge. And sometimes things just want to fall, choosing the plummet over being pushed over and over.
And who is Dennis in his own augmented reality? He felt pulled away by some unseen force. He felt life slipping through his fingers as if it was melting in his grasp. He was frustrated and didn’t know why, taking out his unrelenting anger out on his love, his one love. This isn’t who he wanted to be.
When status quo is the best you can hope for, is it really worth fighting for? That’s what she asked the day she left. Dennis had no answer.
The tangle of life isn’t easy. It’s especially hard when you’ve lost the person who was always good at undoing the extra though double-knots in the shoelaces. Dennis knows this now, but it’s too bad for him that he’s a slow learner.
Maybe he can have what he once had if he’s patient. Maybe she’ll give him another chance, another in a long line of chances, another mistake on her part. Maybe he’ll convince her he’ll change, and maybe he actually will this time. Maybe they’ll both move on and find others they can truly be happy with.
Or maybe Dennis will only belong to himself and the empty Tuesday morning, like it was always meant to be this way.