The clock on the dashboard of her truck read 9:23 PM as she pulled into a parking stall in the run-down apartment complex on a Friday evening after a long work day. Jane, a former computer repair technician currently picking up hours moving furniture, had been awake since 3:30 AM for a full day of work. All she could think of as she parked her truck was making sure not to crash before crashing on her couch.
The two friends sat in an empty cafe just outside a side road leading out of town. “I’ll tell ya, Jane, now that I’m off the phones, it’s really something different! The work’s harder, sure, and more competitive, but the freedom you’ve mentioned is nice.” Jane stayed quiet, chewing her cod sandwich, as Sammohini kept chatting. “But I miss the ease of helpdesk work. If you don’t know it, add your notes and escalate it!”
There was a rush at the Sneaker Transport warehouse to unload everything off of three trucks one muggy Evillain morning. Their loading docks were slammed full of outgoing furniture already without the three trucks scheduled haphazardly at the same time. They could have sent them packing, only to return later, but the decision was made to have two stalling out in the yard and all hands on deck to carelessly unload all the incoming furniture.
“Sorry I brought up bad memories.” The two furniture movers were just leaving the highway on their way back from an arduous trek across the E1000 highway in worse than normal traffic. Through talking with the driver, Andrius, on their route, Jane had started the process of getting over long unresolved deep psychological issues at her last company. “N-no, thank y-you for listening.” “We have a little more time if you’d like to keep going.”
I’ll casually estimate that I’ve published over 80,500 words related to “The Story” as of yet, even though all content related to it could easily surpass 150,000. Everything is nebulously floating around inside my head, loosely organized, so even writing specific ideas twice each week are just subjective rough drafts. My plan is to write everything in one go after I feel confident that I can. Until then, here’s a 6,000-word vertical slice walking through “The Story.”
Spoilers?: Major (an entire brain-dump)
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“What else’s on your mind? We’re still, like, 30 minutes to base.”
The two furniture movers, driver Andrius and passenger Jane, were over one hour later to their anticipated clock out time, already, and traffic on the E100 was just starting to loosen up on the formerly blazing Evillain summer afternoon.
“Can I tell you about this one time that really got me fuming bad?”
Andrius looked over, his foot firmly on the break.
I’ll be in a different space when this publishes. Different job, different experiences… different lifestyle? The space I’m in as I’m writing this in late August is mostly a negative space. The veneer is nice and I’m meeting great people that are generous with sharing themselves, yet deep down, it doesn’t feel right. There are malaise and disquiet rumbling underneath my psyche. Why isn’t it good? Let’s explore, to help the “me” of October 13th.