(no subject)
the likeness of any persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
"i'll be home in a few hours," he says with an air of sadness, "i need to run a few errands." as he hangs up the phone, he looks around at his desk. his work pc, a few pictures of his family. some folders and a stapler. harry was simply another statistic. a man caught in the daily grind, and it was ripping him apart.
the drive home caught him driving aimlessly. the radio had flipped to scan forty minutes ago and harry hadn't noticed. his wife had been sleeping with another man since before they were married. he'd found this out by accident three years ago. he told his depressed therapist about it, and thinking it would help, they had sex in her office. in reality, it was like getting rescued by a sinking ship. when he told his wife she laughed. "you're kidding me harry, your therapist? how cliche. the least you could have done would be try to fuck one of the interns at work." he expected her to scream at him, throw things and generally degrade him. elise always let him down.
he comes to a stop at a red light. the rush hour traffic speeds by despite the freezing sleet falling in sheets. he thinks of how easy it'd be to slam the gas and slide in front of the passing semi. his phone rings, and it takes him a few seconds to fumble it out of his coat. he looks at the id and it's his daughter. "hey daddy, would you be able to loan me two hundred dollars?" he couldn't say no. his daughter was the only thing that kept him grounded. his son sided with his wife on everything, and his daughter did most of the time as well. it was really the fact that she came to him with her problems instead of her mother. something in him had changed over the past few months. "i'm sorry honey, i won't be coming home tonight." confused, she she asks why. "i can't tell you, mel. i'm sorry."
he tosses the phone onto the passenger seat and drives up to the cliffs. as young kid he'd go there with his friends and drink beer and smoke pot. he doesn't even talk to any of them anymore. coming to a stop at their favorite overhang, he gets out and walks to the handrails.
"where is your father?" harry's wife asks simon, their son. "i don't know. he said he was running errands." she stops for a moment to think of whatever it could be he'd be doing. arriving at the same time are mel and ethan, elise's man on the side. "hi, mel." ethan says in earnest. "fuck you, asshole. mom, dad said he wasn't going to be coming tonight, what's with that?" she looks at her daughter and is even more confused. "he told simon he was running errands." ethan sees this as his cue to leave, anytime elise acts worried about harry, it means he's about to get yelled at for being around.
harry climbs over the handrail and looks down. his tie is waving wildly in the water-filled wind.
"mom, call dad."
he thinks about how much it's going to hurt to hit the rocks.
"harry. answer your phone. answer your fucking phone."
"fuck it."
he lets go.
"i'll be home in a few hours," he says with an air of sadness, "i need to run a few errands." as he hangs up the phone, he looks around at his desk. his work pc, a few pictures of his family. some folders and a stapler. harry was simply another statistic. a man caught in the daily grind, and it was ripping him apart.
the drive home caught him driving aimlessly. the radio had flipped to scan forty minutes ago and harry hadn't noticed. his wife had been sleeping with another man since before they were married. he'd found this out by accident three years ago. he told his depressed therapist about it, and thinking it would help, they had sex in her office. in reality, it was like getting rescued by a sinking ship. when he told his wife she laughed. "you're kidding me harry, your therapist? how cliche. the least you could have done would be try to fuck one of the interns at work." he expected her to scream at him, throw things and generally degrade him. elise always let him down.
he comes to a stop at a red light. the rush hour traffic speeds by despite the freezing sleet falling in sheets. he thinks of how easy it'd be to slam the gas and slide in front of the passing semi. his phone rings, and it takes him a few seconds to fumble it out of his coat. he looks at the id and it's his daughter. "hey daddy, would you be able to loan me two hundred dollars?" he couldn't say no. his daughter was the only thing that kept him grounded. his son sided with his wife on everything, and his daughter did most of the time as well. it was really the fact that she came to him with her problems instead of her mother. something in him had changed over the past few months. "i'm sorry honey, i won't be coming home tonight." confused, she she asks why. "i can't tell you, mel. i'm sorry."
he tosses the phone onto the passenger seat and drives up to the cliffs. as young kid he'd go there with his friends and drink beer and smoke pot. he doesn't even talk to any of them anymore. coming to a stop at their favorite overhang, he gets out and walks to the handrails.
"where is your father?" harry's wife asks simon, their son. "i don't know. he said he was running errands." she stops for a moment to think of whatever it could be he'd be doing. arriving at the same time are mel and ethan, elise's man on the side. "hi, mel." ethan says in earnest. "fuck you, asshole. mom, dad said he wasn't going to be coming tonight, what's with that?" she looks at her daughter and is even more confused. "he told simon he was running errands." ethan sees this as his cue to leave, anytime elise acts worried about harry, it means he's about to get yelled at for being around.
harry climbs over the handrail and looks down. his tie is waving wildly in the water-filled wind.
"mom, call dad."
he thinks about how much it's going to hurt to hit the rocks.
"harry. answer your phone. answer your fucking phone."
"fuck it."
he lets go.