Rat's Alley

The Ballad of James Gladstone, Part 2.

James sits down at his table and begins to write. His journal is a dark brown leather that is worn well with age. He brings out his favorite pen and presses it towards the paper. He has no structure in his mind, but the ideas flow naturally. Words start to pour out from his heart like a rush of water after a dam has been broken. First from his heart. Second from his mind. Third from his soul. And last but not least, the words pour from his body.

He aches. He sits uncomfortably in his chair knowing that all the while he is solidifying thoughts that nobody would ever care to admit. He realizes the futility in writing down ideas that have swam around his head for weeks. He is seemingly putting things into an eternal mindset, but the paper will pass just like James. He knows this. He continues to write.

As his mind is seemingly numb from scraping back and forth across the paper, he decides it’s time for bed. He meanders upstairs. He climbs into his bed and he pulls his comforter up to his chin. Still alone, in his all to adequate house. The alarm strikes eight AM the next morning and his alarm goes off. He’s got about an hour until he has to get to work. The first day at his new job.

He rolls out of bed, and goes into his normal morning routine. Breakfast, coffee, shower and a shave. Same…old…thing. His mind is ready for a change, hopefully his new job will bring him what he desires. After he brushes his teeth and puts on his favorite tie, he climbs in the driver’s seat of his Subaru and heads to work.

He arrives, walks in, introduces himself and gets shown to his new office. James sits down and relaxes, he looks at his watch, it reads 12:30. As with any charade the time just flew by. He can’t remember anything. Everything was so rushed that he couldn’t even recall where the bathrooms were. He steps outside of his office and proceeds to go to the desk just outside. There is a girl, she has brown hair. The most beautiful blue eyes he has ever seen. She has a fair complexion. Her lips are red with lipstick. James looks at her, then immediately retreats back to his office. The urge to leave again was all to pressing, but he just sat. Alone at his desk. At this point he was just wasting time. But he couldn’t go back out there until he knew what to say. James needed a release, something to comfort him. He pulled out his journal that he wrote in the night before. He read his own words and remembered the way the pen had felt in his hand. He was calmed. All the while, he was thinking of her. Her face ran through his mind like the perfect muse. He was overwhelmed once again.

James stepped over to the window and remembered what he felt the last time he had looked out one. It had been in his own office, just before he had left. He hadn’t spoken to anyone all day. He just remembered looking out his window and seeing only the reflection of his empty office behind him. A stroke of courage his him, or maybe it was stupidity. James rushed out of the office and walked straight to the desk. He looked this girl in the eye, stuck out his hand for a handshake and muttered, “Hi, I’m James. Nice to meet you.” She smiled, recognizing his admonition.

“Emma, you as well”, she said.

“I can’t seem to remember where the bathroom is, could you point me in the right direction?”, James said punctually.

“Yeah, of course, right over there!” Emma said, pointing her french-tipped finger down a hallway immediately behind James.

James turned on his heel and walked in the direction she pointed. Finally he found it. He walked in, embraced the sink as if he were going to be sick and took a deep long breath. As he stared at himself in the mirror he saw his reflection. He splashed water on his face and continued to stare. He stared so long that he could hardly recognize himself. Funny how that works. He left the restroom, gave a passing glance and a smile to Emma, but continued to his office. Once he got back to his desk, he opened his journal and began to write.