The Day

Didn’t realize I slept the entire day. The knock on the door threw me out of my stupor. I was dead tired and had returned home in the wee hours of the morning. I jumped out of bed; it was too late to rush into the bathroom. Several thought crossed my head in a flash… work, boss, “P” and “S”. The banging continued on the door and after a while I could hear Max calling my name, he probably though I am dead. I shouted and asked him to relax as I opened the door… I didn’t bother to look at him. I turned around and headed straight to my bed.

Max was my childhood friend. We had been to school together, he was this weird kid in the class who ogled every female teacher. Max went on to be a painter and was always borrowing money from me. He always introduced himself as an artist.

He was hysteric and couldn’t believe I took so long to answer the door; he was also confused – why I was home? He continued telling me how he kept trying my number and how worried he was… he feared I had killed myself as per him I was overworked and had a sad life. My phone – it was dead… I happen to drop it en route home.

I felt kind of good. It was the only day in the last two years that I had missed work, though I never intended to. I kind of missed “P”, I last saw her about a week ago. Max fiddled with my stuff out of habit… I asked Max if he would like to catch a flick and asked him to call “P”. Max was busy and didn’t respond. I shouted, “Call P”. “For what? I saw her was this guy from the other side of the town… they were kind of getting a bit cozy”. His tone had sympathy. It killed me.

I picked up my coat jumped out the house and into the taxi to “P's” place.