FIVE MINUTES FICTION: It’s The Way you Died That Keeps me Awake at Night

It’s the way you died that keeps me awake at night. During the day at the Office I was so boring that I can’t even think about philosophical aspects like death or the meaning of life… I can’t think at all. I have to do the reports that it is an absolute waste of time because nobody reads them under any circumstances. And then someone do other short reports about my reports which nobody knows that they exist, and this thing is a full time job, can you believe that? When I come back home while I see the frozen pizza to rotate and spin in the microwave is when I start to think about it… about you and your weird death. At night my mind can’t process this fact of your absurd death. It does not help that the pizza was an inedible piece of fake pizza. The tiny room is so quiet that I can hear my inner voice; it’s when I begin to think behind my simple life.

First I turn on the TV as a company to avoid the awful silence of the bourgeoisified suburbs. Then I drop the dish with leftover pizza; At this point I’m starting to understand things during the day seem absurd, except your death. Your death is so full of unjustified argues that I can´t understand nothing at all months after you pass the way. I think I started getting into madness because I can’t sleep at night and I cannot stay awake during the day. At the office everything seems to me as a bad dream and I’m always waiting to wake up of the reports’ nightmare. My boss has a superb plan in what is concern the employees: Keep them busy no matter what. I have the perk plan to kill him with the folder reports. But nothing of this justified your unusual death.

I think wherever you are now, you are still gloating over your victory, because it seems to me you always loved absurd and surrealism in life. It seems to me that you always liked to make fun with the most stupid and simple. I can remember when you loved to hide of me for days and days in your private world of stones and pebbles. Never have you minded leaving me alone with the soliloquy of my diary reports and solitude of my endless nights. Your ingratitude always was so huge but I always forgive you when you returned so quiet and peaceful to my tiny, tiny room.

Oh! I can imagine you will come back on my way home little Frank Jr., and I could see you again with your gorgeous golden suit to kiss my tiny fingers against the glass if I would be a great musician strumming an enormous glass piano just for you.

It’s the way you died that keeps me awake at night. I gave you the better feed I can find in the market (I really don’t care it costs more than my pizza), I really followed carefully the instructions that came in the box. I moved up your water to a fresh one the day before, and you did not even complained when I poured the vitamins that turn up the water in a weird purple and grim up it. But in the morning, Frank Jr., you came floating on the purple water full of good vitamins. I can´t ever understand why a happy golden fish can simply die like that! First I thought that you were joking of me as usual. but at night when I came back home I came to the conclusion that you really were dead. It’s the way you died that keeps me awake at night: Floating on top of expensive vitamins.

 
Paula Lamares
Abril/2010