KhrGifsets

Work was hard. The days were long, the hours infinite. The more I worked, the more I stared back at my computer, the more I felt my eyes were rotting themselves out of my head. The tiny cubicle I worked on squeezed down on my soul, the walls attacking me from every angle. My workmates smiled, laughed, were happy. None of our actions were real. None of our “friendships” existed outside of that seven floor building. Outside of our building, there was a strip of grass, then then pavement, the road, more pavement, and then a school. The school’s lunch break coincided with ours, unfortunately. I can’t even begin to think how pathetic we must have looked to those children. A bunch of middle-aged people with lined skin and receding hairlines, dressed in a crumpled black suit signifying our attendance to the every day funeral of life. I can’t imagine what they must have thought as they watched us desperately trying to light a cigarette in the damp drizzle, desperate for a drag of smoke. I often wonder how I survived it. Sometimes I think I just switched myself off inside when I entered that place in the early hours of the morning, and didn’t allow myself to breath until I left it in the evening.

But it was okay.

Because as soon as I turned the corner and the building was out of sight, the world became warmer. As I turned onto our street, the red bricks houses shining with a sense of home, I felt content. And when I opened up the door and my nose was happily assaulted by the delicious smell of my wife’s cooking and my precious daughter ran to greet me, I could honestly say I had it all. Princess. Fairy. Mermaid. Angel. My little girl. Always needing saving from some treacherous villain or foe. Always calling out for her “superhero” to come save her while she giggles, hiding behind an armchair pretending to be trapped. It was easy smile when faced with such innocence. My wife claimed that her laugh washed the years off my face. She had me twirled her little finger. I was always available to play, always ready to use my suit jacket as a cape and fly upstairs to fight the monster under the bed. I was Superman, Batman, Ironman, all rolled into one. This may sound arrogant to say, but I was the best father I could have been. Special lunches, bedtime stories, the lot. This side of me was separate, secret, from work.

I was the best father I could have been.

I tell myself this one more time. The wind is cold, my eyes are freezing, my lungs inhaling the salty air. I take one more look at the three foot long grave and bend down to touch the cold, worn marble once more. My bones are old now. Bending down takes a lot from me. I place the teddy bear gently down alongside the pink roses. And my whisper is caught by the wind and carried up to heaven for her to hear.