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He remembered their little granddaughter who roared around inside the building with seemingly boundless energy. She brightened each room she raced through with her contagious laugh and beaming smile. She hardly seemed to show that she had recently lost both her parents in a horrible automobile crash. Now, she had only her grandparents to care for her. So sad. Her grandparents doted on her without apology, though, even naming the restaurant after her, he recalled, as he showered and readied himself for his unexpected dinner date. He wrestled his old suit out of the back of his closet, and was pleased to know that he could still fit into it. Inspecting himself briefly in the mirror, he was pleased with what he saw. He was older now, but he was still strong, and maintained his hard muscles, and his skin was tanned from all the time sitting by the beach as he painted. He turned, and made his way out the door, feeling confident and: dare he say it? Rather sexy.As he approached. But all I did was pick up a box and pack my things. My pens, my pencils, my notebooks, my papers, all of it. I couldn't even look my co-workers in the eye and vice-versa.It wasn't until closed the trunk of my car until my knees buckled and I collapsed against my car in tears. I wasn't concerned about my livelihood or bills to pay. This was my life. It wasn't great, it wasn't flashy but it was mine. I helped make stories for those kids who sat at the back of the class, who no one ever wanted to sit with at lunch time, who couldn't talk to another person or didn't want to. I wanted to make something for the outcasts in the world and now . . . now I can't.All I could do for the present was to go home. I got into my car and decided to listen to my Final Fantasy playlist on the way home.The drive was long, as it always was. I would wake up hours early and drive all the miles necessary to work. The work was its own reward and the miles traveled never mattered to me.My apartment wasn't much.
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