Tuesday 7 May 2013

A Perfect Day

His perfect day began at 7.15am, he woke up prompted by his alarm clock and got out of bed. He went downstairs and made toast, coffee, ate them at the kitchen table. Showered and brushed his teeth. Got dressed in grey jeans, a red short sleeved shirt, and his white trainers. He caught the 8.47am train and went to work.

    His job is simple, mindless, he stands by a production line, doing quality control. On his perfect day there were no problems.

     After work he met some friends for a drink, he had two beers and saw her standing at the bar. He went up, introduced himself, they started talking and kept talking until the bar staff had to ask them to leave.

     He walked her to the bus stop, she kissed him, and gave him her number.

     Full of hope and happiness, he walked home and went to bed.


It hadn't taken long for things to go wrong after that, sure, for a while they were happy enough, but no day seemed as carefree as that first. He was constantly concerned that he meant less to her than she did to him, that perhaps she was treating him as an island between things, a stopover on her way somewhere better.

     He became paranoid, ugly, suspicious and would ask leading, provocative questions that frayed at her nerves until she could stand it no longer. She, quite understandably, left and didn't answer any of his calls.

     When he finally realised that she didn't care for him anymore he went to bed, cried into his pillow briefly, and then fell asleep.


He woke up at 7.15am, prompted by his alarm clock and got out of bed. He went downstairs and made toast, coffee, ate them at the kitchen table. Showered and brushed his teeth. Got dressed in grey jeans, a red short sleeved shirt, and his white trainers. He caught the 8.47am train and went to work.

     It was only then, on that train ride, that he was reminded of his perfect day, and how it had begun just like this about seven months ago. He suddenly became optimistic, an electric tingle inside of him, as if he was - just like the train - on a predetermined path to an unchangeable destination, moving forwards.

     He stood by the production line, checking each item for faults, they were all fine. Things were in his favour.

     He had called his friends, the same friends, at lunchtime, to arrange drinks after works and when one had shown signs of hesitation he had insisted, pleaded and the friend had relented.

     They went to the pub, he had two beers and then stood at the bar, waiting.

     Waiting.

     His friends came up in turn, asked if he was ok, tried to draw him back to the table, but he was resolute and continue to wait as they returned, one by one, to say goodnight.

     When the bar staff asked him to leave he walked alone to the bus stop, waited for the bus and waved it goodbye, then walked home and went to bed.


The following day he woke up at 7.15am, prompted by his alarm clock and got out of bed. He went downstairs and made toast, coffee, ate them at the kitchen table. Showered and brushed his teeth. Got dressed in the same grey jeans, red short sleeved shirt and white trainers, they had wisps of last night clining to them like an invisible mist.

     He caught the 8.47am train and went to work.

     He stood by the production line, checking each item for faults, some seemed a little less than perfect, but he let it slide.

     He had called his friends, two were incredulous, made their excuses, he begged but they refused. One was surprised but agreed nonetheless.

     They went to the pub, he had two beers and then stood at the bar, waiting.

     His friend joined him, started talking, but he wasn't interested in listening and his friend became disinterested, finished his drink and wandered off, leaving the pub without saying goodbye.

     When the bar staff asked him to leave he walked alone to the bus stop, waited for the bus and waved it goodbye, then walked home and went to bed.


One week later, like he had done every day, he woke up at 7.15am, prompted by his alarm clock and got out of bed. He went downstairs and made toast, coffee, ate them at the kitchen table. Showered and brushed his teeth. Got dressed in the same, starchy, grey jeans, clammy red short sleeved shirt and off-white trainers.

     He caught the 8.47am train and went to work.

     He stood by the production line, he neither knew nor cared whether the products were perfect or otherwise, they filed by him as the hours wore on.

     He called his friends, but the calls just rang out or went to voicemail.

     He went to the pub, he had two beers and then stood at the bar, waiting.

     When the bar staff asked him to leave he walked alone to the bus stop, waited for the bus and waved it goodbye, then walked home and went to bed.


One month later, he woke up at 7.15am, prompted by his alarm clock and got out of bed. He went downstairs, but there was no bread, no coffee, he sat at the kitchen table for twenty minutes. Showered and brushed his teeth. Got dressed in the tatty, stained grey jeans, stinking red short sleeved shirt and dull trainers.

     He caught the 8.47am train and went to work.

     He stood outside the building, no longer allowed admittance and watched the people come and go, they all seemed so perfect.

     He called his friends, but his phone disconnected immediately, he had no calling credit.

     He went to the pub, he had two beers and then stood at the bar, waiting.

     When the bar staff asked him to leave he argued that it wasn't yet closing time, they were firm, insistent, threatened him with the police, he reasoned that he wasn't causing anyone any harm. They let him stay until close.

     He walked alone to the bus stop, waited for the bus and waved it goodbye, then walked home and went to bed.


Some time later, he woke up at 7.15am, naturally. He walked down the street, past bakeries and coffee shops, staring in through their windows. In a public bathroom he ran water through his matted hair, rubbed soap on his face and hands. Itched at the worn away jeans, the red short sleeved shirt and trainers that had fallen apart to resemble sandals.

     He hopped the barrier and caught the 8.47am train.

     He stood outside the building, watched the people come and go.

     He stood outside the pub.

     He walked to the bus stop, waited for the bus and waved it goodbye, then walked away to find a place to sleep.

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