The morning
Clark woke up; His hands to the back of his head, he thought of the next meal he was going to feast on, while constantly trying to avoid thoughts of what he would have to do during the day. He had quite a lot to do, yet all of it stressed him out. For those who know how it feels to meticulously plan out every aspect of ones life, they also know the tiresomeness involved in living this way.
He was an accountant, and a handsomely paid one as well- A profession he’s possessed for the last 20 years of his life. Now at 42, he considered himself quite a wealthy man. You would think managing records of transactions for large companies would be painstaking. It actually was! However, ones desire to make a six-figure income always seemed to inspire a person to ” work beyond themselves”.
He finally considered taking eggs and bacon with grilled cheese, and upon the awareness of his decision, decided to get out of bed. Clark didn’t know how to cook. “Why bother when you can have someone else do it for you,” or so he always told himself. “Beatrice!Beatrice!“,Clark called his maid twice.
As he was walking down the stairs of his two-story penthouse, a radiant young blond haired woman, moved hurriedly into Clark’s area of vision.
“Yes sir”, Beatrice replied.
“Why did you take so long to answer! I’m quite hungry don’t you see? I want bacon and eggs. And while you are at it, get me a cup of coffee, pronto”, Clark ranting in the wee hours of the morning. It was barely 7 and yet his voice resonated through the confines of his luxurious urban penthouse.
“Sometimes I wonder why I even have you here”, He said silently yet still quite audibly to Beatrice, who herself was already on her way to make that cup of coffee Clark was quite obviously “dying” for.
The weak look for weaker to prey upon. The materialistic, chase that which swiftly fades away. Neither, however, would never see the fault in their own choices of life.
Clark had work in about two hours and decided to relax a bit more. “What’s the point of making all this money when you don’t enjoy it yourself”, he murmured to himself. His home seemed to be a part of a new wave of simplistic ultra-modern homes, whose elegance was in the fact that they seemed minimalistic- White on every corner of the house and a virtual furnace placed under his OLED flat screen. Life was good he felt. ‘Tiny Heaven’ Clark called his home.
“Hurry up and get me my coffee Beatrice, I don’t have all day.”
Beatrice came out of the kitchen walking slowly as not to pour the tiniest bit of the contents that lay in the tray. She looked up at Clark, smiling as if all that had just been said to her, had missed her like a stray missile. She placed the tray on a tea table. “Here’s your meal sir”, speaking with a hint of an accent.
“Thank you”, he said. “You may go now.” He stared at his mug, picked it up and took a sip of the expresso that was in it.
“Wow Beatrice, you’ve outdone yourself today. Good job”, he called out to her. There was no response.“This is really good, what’s in thi-“, choking on the last word.
“What’s in this Beatrice!? Tell me!” Silence further ensued.
Clark was gasping for air, yet to no avail. It was as if trying to hold water in the palm of ones hand-it always slips through. So was his breath. Breathing had no purpose, for the air evaded him. I can’t breathe, he thought to himself. He put his hand to his chest and clenched his shirt hard. He could feel his heartbeat slowing. Bit by bit the beat of his heart was turning numb. Slowly a writhing pain gripped his throat. His hands grew pale. It was not long until he realized that he was watching the unfolding of his own demise. An observer in his own body. Watching the vessel with which he moves along the realm of the material crumble before his very eyes. His sight turned hazy. Yet he couldn’t lose focus of the pain that gripped him. Slowly he slumped further into his Eight-Thousand dollar couch.
When he first bought what he thought was an aesthetically pleasing resting piece of furniture, it had not dawned upon him then, that someday it would be his deathbed. Now, it did. Now sadly, there was only darkness.
