The Painting
It was 11PM and the soft sounds of people working were fading as I walked to the locker rooms to receive my belongings. I was bone tired, fingers and back sore from lifting boxes all day. I looked down at my hands, they were ashy and kind of dirty. 'I should wash my hands..,' I thought to myself. I walked over to a sink not too far from my locker and squeezed the highly scented soap into my hands, lathering up the soap and watching the murky water go down the drain. I got caught in a daze of thoughts, watching the water swirling down. I was tired of this job, the mundane day to day, each day being the same like I was on autopilot or a well oiled machine with only one purpose. The feeling encompassed me, making me feel almost overwhelmed with the idea that this is how I lived. I shook the feeling off, telling myself, "You'll be fine" and turned off the sink. I quickly put on my coat and grabbed my bag, just wanting to get home and get into my warm bed. As I stepped outside, the cold brisk wind slapped my entire body. It was colder than I had expected, further dimming my mood and increasing my eagerness to get home. I waited for the bus, the wind still hitting me and spinning around me. I was freezing and this bus was certainly delayed because it had been scheduled to arrive at 11:15 and it was already 11:35. I stood there angrily, feelings still building up like a kettle on an open flame. Just when I felt ready to call a cab, the bus pulled up at 11:50. "Hello there!," said the bus driver as he let me onto the warm bus. I grumbled a lowly hello, still upset he took so long. The driver stalled there a bit, waiting for others who got off at 12. A few people started walking towards and piling in. Faces of tiredness from a hard day of work at the warehouse. The bus pulled off and softly began to rock me to sleep. My eyes felt heavy and my head was bobbing up and down, trying to stay awake and alert of when my stop was coming. I shook my body just a little, trying to invoke a feeling of energy; that didn't seem to help though because soon after I was waking up on an empty bus. I jolted up scared that I missed my stop, frantically looking outside. I sighed in relief to see I was close to my stop but hadn't passed it. I grabbed my bag off the seat to prep to get off at the next stop. As I did this, I saw a little black book underneath the seat beside me. I don't know why but I felt compelled to pick it up, so I did. It seemingly was old, with a worn out, scuffed leather cover. I flipped through it to see it was empty, until I got to a middle page. Written on that page was an address. I flipped further to see if there was anything else within the book but there wasn't, just that address. My stop had come and I quickly darted off the bus, into the cold. Luckily my apartment was only a block away. I put my keys into the door and stepped inside of my warm apartment. It was quiet and dark, no one to greet me, just me. I flicked on the lights and took off my shoes, just ready to take a hot shower but the book in my hand intrigued me. What was this address? Why was that the only thing written? I further examined the book to see if there was anything else on or inside it. Nothing, nothing at all. I put the tiny black book inside the pocket to my coat and headed to the shower. After my shower I laid in bed, tossing and turning. I couldn't get this book off my mind for some reason. It was something so normal yet so odd. It was just exciting enough to add a difference into the stagnant life I was living. I soon drifted off, too tired to think about anything at all but the peace of sleep.
