The Only Eternal Gift is the Present

By Drew Asherman

I was waiting, on the steps of my apartment, for the bus to pick me up for work so I could eat. It was one of those days where it was cold in the morning but picked up midday. I still wore my jacket from last night's bar adventures. I’ve been going to the same bars forever, as I feel something other than pain when I'm in them. Whiskey soaked up the material, leaving cigarette ashes behind charcoal blotches mottling with navy. I notice the cuffs are fading as well as the buildings across the street. Paint is crippling everywhere, and the stairs have chunks of concrete stolen. The doors are loose and the windows barred. My side is slightly worse than theirs; well, every building is dilapidated on this street. But, there are kids over there playing gleefully with leaves wearing jackets too small. They are too young to recognize their plight. They are too young to realize that one day they will relive the memories they are making now. As the children and their buildings are illuminated with burning orange haze from the sun's rays, everything on my side of the street and myself are fading faster, idling in darkness.

The bus finally arrived for me, and the kids were still playing. As the bus drove down the street, my view of their smiles vanished. They've dwindled, evaporating into the buildings that absorbed them. As we crossed a four-way stop, the sun finally touched me. My face and hands became slightly warm for a couple of seconds as the bus drove through the intersection. This cycle lasted 53 more times. On my way to work, I'm the one reliving my childhood in my mind. I was once one of those kids pretending the world is fair. But now I'm here, laboring my life away. My sanity is quickly melting through my clothes onto the floor every time I walk into the factory. I need to quit and head west like I've always desired. My freedom rests far from this place. It rests free from pain.

Something spurred me to walk into my boss's office. I entered and my stomach hurled over itself. He looks up at me with his comfortable clothes, confused about why I'm not working. With a blink before I spoke I thought of who my younger self wanted to become. What was younger me dreaming of?

"I need to quit." I took a long pause to find my breath, "I feel like I've wasted 23 years here and need more out of life. There is something to it that I can't explain with words worth pursuing." Rage enhanced my tone. I genuinely wanted to fight him. My fists tightened, and my heart scuttled.

He squinted, not believing what I had to say was true. He let out a laugh that just left his stomach cavity empty, "I'm sorry you feel that way. If this is what you want, then talk to Kurt. He will get you situated with everything. Hope you will find what you're pursuing."

My body slowed down. That was it? After all these years spent here he will toss me out in less than five sentences. I expected this honestly. Internally, I broke into slivers of metal scraps that filled the floor for my co-workers to use. I went to see Kurt for the post-job interview. I was utterly mundane during the process, answering questions swiftly so I could be on my way. Finally, that was over. As soon as I stepped out of the factory, barren of hope, I finally felt the sun's rays stick to my body as it was set high enough in the sky. Now I could live slowly tranquil. Not waiting for a bus, I walked back to my apartment. By the time I reached my apartment steps, the children were gone, but I was now the one wearing a smile, longing to conclude what I've always wanted since I left their age. To keep believing that the present is an eternal gift only if you keep it unwrapped.