interi

His hand brushed against the bars of gate that surrounded some important looking building. Brushing his hand against his slacks stopped him in his tracks. Looking down he saw a swath of soot across him pocket, a black smear on the beige material. Breaking into laughter, he doubled back and looked closely at the bars. They were filthy.

Well, this is great. First day and I walk in looking like I was working on a car or something. Breath.

Despite it all, he kept grinning. These kinds of things were not worth worrying about, though it did irritate him to no end. He hadn’t worn these pants for four days, wanting to really make an impression today. No time for laundry had dictated the same pair of shorts for the last week. At least he got to wear something clean, external appearances aside.

Looking at his fingers he realized he still had some soot—or whatever it was—on his hands. Unable to find another object to wipe his hands on, he resolved to make the most out of the smear, and proceeded to soften the edges, forming a longer and uniform rectangle. At least it would look stylish.

Out came his mobile, checking his location. Destination was nearby. No new texts, and nothing of note on the feeds. Time to get to business.

He stopped, eyes closed and a deep breath. One last time to feel nervous before starting his first day. He barely caught himself as the hurrying mass crashed into him, a metal rod beating against his lower back.

His vision focused on three things, alternating, unable to decide which was most important.

There was the score of various tennis shoes and socks forming a wall around him.

Closer to his face, blurring out the argyle lattice, was a smashed piece of orange and blue faux metal, its digital insides spilling out like the intestine of a phone that had just committed ritual suicide. Damn.

Then there was the feature of the moment, which was, fortunately or unfortunately, the last thing he noticed before his brain processed the cost of the junk pile in front of his face, the lack of oxygen that his body was about to react to, and the fact that whatever hit him was still on top of him.

Blue. Cotton. Panties.

His first day was turning out… even.