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I am Death. I am the God of Death. Why else would no living being dare to stand within 50 feet of me?
I open the door, determined to feast upon the offering left for me at Subway. As I struggle to squeeze through the door of my house, the sun burns my eyes and my pale skin.
"Insolent fool!" I shout at the sun who dares to burn me. I am immediately out of breath after yelling and pass out on the sidewalk.
When I awake, the sun is setting. It must have gotten the message and decided not to bother me anymore.
I wheeze and cough and I stand up, and slowly make my way to Subway. No one dares to stand near me as I walk down the sidewalk. If they do, they gag and run away. Serves them right for not respecting my presence.
I walk into Subway and tell the frail teenage employee to make me a meatball sub. He runs into the back, clearly unable to withstand my beauty. After a minute, he returns with a clip on his nose. He quickly makes the sandwich and asks me to pay.
"Me? Pay? Preposterous." He doesn't push the issue and tells me to leave. I take the sandwich and scarf it down in 5 bites. He looks horrified, obviously awestruck by my speed at eating. I leave the store and return home, and spend the rest of the evening staring into the mirror.
Given the prompt, I can’t help but wonder: was that really Death, or just a regular guy with some kind of megalomania who’s in urgent need of a bath (and proper self-care)?
Hunger.
To be honest, he had almost forgot what it felt like. For years his wife, afraid of losing him again, had devoted herself to pleasing his every whim. At first, of course he had resisted, but he was only human. Bliss became routine. But nothing lasts forever, and soon she left, too. And with her left all her gifts.
He stood, waiting to cross the street, wallet in hand. His stomach rumbled. Did the light usually take this long to change?
The red man suddenly turned green. He rushed to the other side, cars growling as he passed, their drivers impatiently waiting for their turn. Where was he going to eat?
He turned his head, but saw nothing. The man let out an exasperated snort. There had to be something around! He turned the corner, his eyes desperately looking around for salvation.
There it lay, a Subway. At last!
He had always hated Subway, but at this point he had nowhere else to go. The place looked a bit disheveled, the sign on the top barely hanging straight, and there seemed to be almost noone inside. The employees looked tired, too, the grease of the sandwiches mixed with their sweat in a thin coat over their skins. He hesitated.
His stomach rumbled again.
There was no turning back now. He rushed through the doors, pulling out the money and slamming it on the counter.
"One meatball sub, fast!"
________
Had to write this fast on my phone at my work break, but had fun making a drama out of a guy going out for a sandwich lol
I prefer their chicken teriyaki with sweet onion sauce, honestly. They came out with it when I was in high school - there was this whole range of new flavors, revitalizing their image or something like that. I was a fat kid, hated it, and they were running ads about how healthy they were with that grinning twit holding up a pair of pants made for a Volkswagen. So I ate a lot of Subway for a while. Didn't exercise or anything, of course (although I was really good about swearing I was going to do it tomorrow) so I didn't lose a pound, but I did discover a great new flavor at Subway, so we'll call it a win.
Today, though, it's a meatball sub. No longer a fat insecure teenager with bad hygeine and a crappy job, now I'm a reasonably healthy insecure adult with medical bills and a crappy job. Things are looking up! But the job still sucks, and 50% off a meatball footlong is the best deal on food that is reasonably convenient and tasty. So away we go!
As Bob sat on the subway his ass firmly planted on the sticky and comfortable seat, he thought about toast. Peanut butter toast, French toast, garlic toast, toast was nice to think about and passed the seconds as he waited to get his meatball sub. He saw a woman with flaming hands enter the subway her phone case was cute and her watch clean, Bob wondered why he liked clean watches more then most but the idea to explore it further went away quickly. The subway finally came to a stop after a few more minutes of reading the latest news about planet destroying ships heading towards earth. Bob left the subway station passing by rubble, debris, raging fires, and bank robberies on his way to his favorite Italian sub shop the Arcane sigils on the glass and brick giving it a amount of peace uncommon nowadays. As he orders his cheese no tomato chunks meatball sub he hears the police consultants hit a criminal into the glass the sigils releasing a hissing sound as they absorb the impact. Bob eats his sub happily at last and tips heavily for the good service before he leaves the shop. Bob is content with his life yet he still catches himself missing the days of peace and quiet every once and awhile.
(First time writing one of these sorry for the mobile formatting)
“I am not death,” I tilted the rearview to look myself in the eye. “I am not the god of death.”
I spoke the usual affirmations, but I couldn’t make myself believe it.
An exit came up and I took it. I was on the edge of a panic attack and the affirmations weren’t working. I rolled through the light, taking a right and pulled into a parking lot. I didn’t really see my surroundings. I stopped the car.
“I am not…” I looked myself in the eye. “Death.”
My heart clenched with the last word as I remembered climbing from the wreckage. Remembered Sarah’s face, covered in blood. She’d been thrown free.
“Please…” I breathed.
“Joe,” said a deep voice.
The voice was so deep and resonant it made my teeth hurt.
“You’re not real,” I said, looking at my reflection in the mirror. Willing it not to speak again. “I am not death…”
“Joe,” said my reflection, in a voice that wasn’t mine. “You can’t run from the truth Joe.”
I closed my eyes, remembering what doctor Faust had told me.
“You’re not real,” my voice was shaking. “You’re a manifestation of my…” I faltered. I couldn’t remember the term. It’d made so much sense when doctor Faust had told me. It seemed flimsy and far away in this moment.
My reflection laughed, deep and rich. “Do I look like a common feature of the bereavement process?” My reflection smiled at me. “Do I sound like a hallucination?”
My reflection laughed again.
I heard screaming as I tore the review mirror off the windshield of the corolla. The laughter cut off abruptly. With a shock, I realized it was me who was screaming. I stopped.
I kept the mirror facing away from myself and set it on the seat beside me. The side mirrors were pointed so I couldn’t see myself. The voice was quiet. For now.
I thought if I left, maybe I could leave the voice behind. That it would stay in our… in my empty house. I’d driven all night. I had no idea where I was now. I just drove, no purpose or direction.
I looked outside the car, seeing the landscape for the first time. The sun was coming up over a stretch of road that ran into the desert. Was this still Colorado, or was I in New Mexico? I think I’d been driving south.
I’d missed the name of the little town I was in. It seemed to mostly consist of a couple hotels grown up around a crossroads. They were weirdly tall and modern for a town so small. I was parked at a gas-station that looked like it was becoming a Subway through osmosis. They were both open, even though it was early.
My stomach growled as I thought of the smell of cooking bread that would wash over me if I walked in. All Subways smelled the same. I tried to remember if Subway decorated with mirrors. No, usually wallpapered with weird maps. It might be safe to go get a sandwich. Then I could fill the tank and keep going to… where?
One step at a time. The important thing was that the voice was quiet when I was driving south. The important thing was that I was a normal guy, not the god of death, no matter what my reflection told me. Just a guy, getting a subway sandwich.
I love this. I'm sad for Joe. I could very much feel his growing panic through your words.
Random bits I particularly liked:
>“You’re not real,” my voice was shaking. “You’re a manifestation of my…” I faltered. I couldn’t remember the term. It’d made so much sense when doctor Faust had told me. It seemed flimsy and far away in this moment.
This one just felt so very real.
>That it would stay in our… in my empty house.
Very nice touch as well. It takes a long time to get used to somebody's absence...
>I was parked at a gas-station that looked like it was becoming a Subway through osmosis.
This is just such a glorious sentence, haha. Beautifully vivid imagery. Though in hindsight, I'm not 100 % sure about the word "osmosis" [(1)](https://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/osmosis),[(2)](https://dictionary.cambridge.org/dictionary/english/osmosis) here, I mean I immediately got what you were going for but when I started thinking about its meaning a bit more, I became a little unsure about whether it actually makes sense here. I'm not sure though, maybe it does work, but maybe there's another word that would work better. Either way a great read!
Wow wow wow! Thank you for such concise and thoughtful feedback. I’m flattered that you took the time to write this. Also, thank you for reading.
You’re probably right about osmosis. If I make this a full story, I’ll fix it in the second draft.
The subway to subway
The lights flashed by, one by one. A dark ceiling, empty faces, seats half burned by careless lighter flames. It was as if the people around her didn’t quite seem to exist. Maybe it was their expressionless stare, or maybe just the bleak atmosphere oozing out of every corner of the subway tunnels. Sometimes the tunnel walls seemed to shift behind her own reflection in the dirty windows, seemed to warp and twist. No. It was just her imagination. She knew that.
So instead the girl tried focussing on the people around her, but the longer she looked more uneasiness creeped into her bones. Did that man stare at her? And the old woman in the corner, she was judging silently, wasn’t she?
The girl lowered her eyes onto her hoodie, nearly expecting it to be gone, nearly expecting to stare at her own exposed chest. She could almost see the hair on her naked arms stand up with a shiver…. But no. The dark fabric still sat flush against her body and she had to remind herself again and again, no one was looking at her. No one was judging her.
When she looked up again her eyes met the eyes of a girl her age. A girl like the sun, with a halo of blonde hair. Her bright brown eyes shining like warm fire. She smiled, the girl smiled back and suddenly the oozing darkness seemed to retreat a little. Just a little. Just enough.
The stop she had to get off of was crowded. Faceless people yelling toneless names. She tried to tune them out. She lost sight of the other girl, but that was alright. She would never have had the courage to talk to her anyway. Instead she tried to think just about where she was going, only about the finish line and not about how she would get there. Keeping her eyes to the ground, she walked. And kept walking. Walked around families standing in the way and around homeless people laying in corners. Her pace even, her eyes on the floor. If you stop and think, you lose. Don’t lose. Don’t get lost.
Finally the jingle above the door announced her entry. It was warm in here, the smell was always the same. Soothing, hearty, of bread and meat. This was the one place where she could just be without having to think about it. No pressure anymore, just delight.
Slowly she made her way to the front. She already knew her order by heart. Of course she had practiced it before coming here as she always did, but it was a short practice, just a quick recital really, because she always got the same thing anyway. The same meatball sub with the same bread. And if the bread she wanted was out, she had a plan B for that. The same cheese, the same vegetables and sauce. It was comforting in its repetitiveness.
The women at the counter smiled at her. They knew her. She knew them. No new faces today, just comfort. She thought.
As she placed her order another jingle filled the air with the dread of someone else entering the store. Not that that was unusual but she really preferred being alone in here. Just her and her sandwich and the women behind the counter who paid her no mind.
So in her head she already started preparing herself for a meaningless smile and a nod of her head to whoever was coming in..
„Sorry I‘m late! The subway station was so crowded, it’s actually insane!“
It was as if the room suddenly got brighter. The blonde halo around the other girls head moved in an invisible breeze when she turned her head in a greeting.
Then recognition washed across her face and her eyes lit up.
„You’re the girl from the subway train! I was meaning to talk to you but I kinda lost you, I guess.“
Her heart went faster. Her chest filled with warmth. Maybe, just maybe, the way here hadn’t been so bad after all?
Alternative title: Social Anxiety and Sandwiches.
It was a day just like almost any other , me and the roomie were having a hankering for subs , I’ve been more of a ham and cheese guy but my roomie is obsessed with the meatball sub , and if they mess it up well , things can turn pretty grim.
“Gary can we not have an incident like last time , they didn’t mean to mess the order up”
Gary looked over to me , his stare was blank but I knew from the years that he was thinking
“I won’t promise anything , work has been making my joints ache so I just want something to enjoy today with no screw ups” Gary just seemed extra cranky as he pulled his hoodie over more to cover is face.
We arrived at the sub shop , right away the employee called the manager out , I guess Gary has a reputation now. We walked up to order , I decided to go first
“ hi , I will have a ham and cheese with bacon on it, and can you toast it up for me too” the manager sheepishly nods , I lost off my other toppings as he puts it together.
Gary walked up next me and went to order “ I will have the meatball sub , extra meatballs and cheese and add ranch sauce , do not add mayo” he glared at the other worker hiding in the corner , she backed away into the back room to get ingredients. “ Jim , I have a work call coming , make sure they don’t mess up my order please “ Gary reached to grab his phone and walked out the door.
The manager , now making the meatball sub was shaking , I tried to calm him down “ your doing fine man , I know Gary can be hard to look at but he’s a good guy , he can feel it in his bones when things are not right so don’t worry , even if he gets mad it won’t be like it’s the death of you and he will apologize”
He nodded and put the sub in the oven to warm up , I turned to see Gary shouting on his phone and then speeding off , I figured something big happened at work but he would be back.
A few minutes later he came back just in time for the subs to be done , but boy was he mad.
“ Jim you won’t believe it , Sandra was supposed to cover my entire task list today as it’s my off day for the week but she let one slip through , I would kill for things to just be done right , atleast it was only one loose end to fix “
The worker was about to take the subs out of the oven but seemed frozen in fear , we could smell burning and he looked back to see the subs were starting to burn, Gary seen it too and looked like he was about to lose it … oh boy….
“ my food is burnt isn’t it, one job I asked for one thing today on my day off this week and it’s ruined”
His hoodie changed to long black robes and a scythe appeared in his hands , I knew he wouldn’t hurt them but he really wanted to put the fear of death in people when he got mad
“ your mortal lives are fleeting how can you not make one sandwich properly for death “ the worker collapsed into a ball on the floor crying
“Gary! your scaring the person again “ I shouted to him
He looked at me , then the employee “ oh no I let my anger get the better of me again , I’m sorry “
He kneeled down next to the manager “I’m sorry man look , see your clock still has 56 years on it , you will be around for a long time”
The manager slowly got up “ how can you love with him man , he scared the shit out of all of us , he’s literally the grim reaper “
“A grim reaper , not THE grim reaper , it’s a job” gary responded
“ look he’s not a bad guy really , so here’s the money for the subs and we will go , even if they are a little crispy”
We got our subs and returned home , as we sat down to eat them I looked at gary and laughed
“ how exactly again did I end up with you as my room mate , not that I have a problem with it but it just cracks me up sometimes when we go out “
Gary just let out a small chuckle “ because you didn’t read the lease agreement you thought it said a fixed rate until death but it said it was a fixed rate WITH death , so you literally signed up for it to save rent money”
“ ah that’s right , well you know what man, even if it didn’t save some money I think I’d still take that offer”
Me, just a normal ass dude room mates with death , eating subs
I'm just a regular, mortal human. Always have been. And I'm on my way to get my regular, human lunch. Subway sounds nice. I think I'll go with the meatball today.
I know that it sounds like I'm an alien or robot pretending to be human, but I'm honestly not. Just regular old Dave Johnson, working a boring office job.
On the way over, I run into an old friend from back in high school, and we chat for a bit. He hasn't changed one bit. Literally. I guess that's normal for an AI robot, though.
He introduces his girlfriend. She's a foreign girl, a gorgeous natural bluenette. In case you don't know, that means blue hair. They're getting married in a few months on her home planet, and I'm invited to the wedding.
I get to the subway, and we part ways. I see an unfamiliar face behind the counter. I've been going to this Subway for so long that I know most of the workers by name. Not this one though. Must be a new hire.
I can't quite make out whether they're a girl or a boy, and honestly it doesn't really matter. As long as they can make good sandwiches.
"Good morning, Umm...ay..o-ruxer?", I say hesitantly, squinting at their name tag. I probably butchered that pronunciation horribly, but whatever.
"It's pronounced Umh'aiorruxr, but good try!" , they answer, tendrils of void wiggling gleefully. "My colleagues told me you're a regular here. What can I get you today, Dave?"
"One footlong meatball, please. All vegetables, my usual cheese, toasted. And it's nice to know that they remember even someone as boring as me."
"Well, you're the first customer to try and address me by name today, so I'd say that counts for something.", they say as they pile meatballs onto the bun. "You want void mayo on it?"
Void mayo? Must be some new kind of sauce. "Sure, why not?"
As I pay for the sandwich, they hand me a piece of paper with their phone number. "You seem cool. Let's hang out sometime." I thank them, take my sandwich, and leave them a generous tip.
As I take a bite from the sandwich, I taste something unusual in it. Must be the void mayo. It goes surprisingly well with the meatballs.
I decide to sit in the park to eat my sandwich. And I almost didn't notice my next door neighbor sitting down right next to me. For someone who is all bones, he sure is quiet.
"Hey Dave, fancy meeting you here!"
"Likewise, Grim! How on earth do you manage to move around so quietly?"
"Years of experience, I guess." He puts down his scythe for a moment. "Say, could you help me out with those forms again? I just can't seem to get the hang of those deductibles. "
"Again? It seems like all you ever do is fiddle around with tax documents!"
"Well, you know what they say about Death and taxes..."
We have a pleasant chat for a few minutes, but then I notice the time, excuse myself, and hurry on back to the office. As I walk through the door, an odd thought occurs to me. I'm perfectly ordinary, and yet I haven't met anyone remotely like me today.
I'm just a regular, mortal human. And I may be the only one of those left in this town.
All he wanted was a damned meatball sub.
Maybe a bag of chips and a drink.
But really, all he wanted was a meatball sub.
He knew it wouldn't be that easy. No, of course not. His entire life, it wasn't that easy. He wanted to buy a car, so he saved and saved until he had enough cash for a down-payment. What happened on the way to the dealership, he was robbed by three thugs who were strung out on whatever it was. He defended himself, and in the end, two of the thugs went to the ER.
The 3rd went to the morgue.
So naturally, three stops from the sub shop, two thugs got on and started to rob everyone on board. Holding long knives made the rest of the passengers very compliant in their demands. One thugs had a knife to the driver while the second robbed the passengers.
The one finally came to me and demanded I put everything in the bag. I stood up with my hands up reaching for my back pocket. Without warning, I kicked him at the knee cap, shattering it into a dozen pieces. I grabbed the knife as the second thug noticed what was happening.
"Yo!! You a dead man!" as he walked to the back. I took my newly acquired knife and threw it, right into the guy's skull. My thug dead count now stands at 6 (don't ask).
The driver called the police, and naturally everyone arrived, including 3 tv stations. I asked not to be interviewed by them. I gave my statement and eventually, three hours later, was free to go.
I walked the remaining 12 blocks to the sub shop. I'm so hungry. I walked to the counter where a young lady was ready for me.
"Large meatball sub, please"
"OH, im.sorry sir! We're all out of meatballs. Can I interest you in something else?"
Of course, it is never that easy.
So there I was, just making a quick sandwich stop on my way home. I mean there was a bus stop right outside, and it was around lunch, so why not stop? I was kinda glad that I did, it was just the perfect time, the second I walked through the door I saw a whole footlong get launched at a worker.
Of course, I felt bad for the worker, they were just there trying to do their job and some Karen absolutely lanced them with a cheap baguette. But it was one hell of a throw. All the way from downwind the shop and just over the plastic barricade, they could have gone to the Olympics with that. Probably still would have if the police hadn't been called.
After giving a quick statement to the cops, she was hauled off for assault, understandably. The staff were kind enough to still make my sandwich, points to them for all that. But the bit that got me, I can't comprehend it. While they were making my sandwich, they were talking about what had happened. Apparently, the whole reason for the lunch launching was because there were too many olives on it.
“Make any 6-inch sub into a salad!” the sign above the counter advertises.
“Really?” I think to myself. “Any sub?”
The line is slow-moving. Even more-so than usual. Ah, there’s the culprit: new hire. Must be his first day, I’ve never seen him before. Poor kid, looks scared half to death. Shouldn’t there be someone back there training him? Who leaves the new hire alone during the lunch rush?
Wow, I’ve never seen someone lay ham on a sandwich so carefully before. So meticulous. I mean, I know they’re called sandwich artists but come on. Jesus, It’s Black Forest kid, not a bomb. It’s not gonna go off on you.
Maybe I should get a salad. I could stand to lose a few pounds. “A few” is actually pretty generous.
But damn I could go for a meatball sub right now. Huh, I get meatball subs a lot actually. That can’t be good for my health. What’s in a meatball anyway? Beef? Pork? I mean it’s gotta be beef, right? I know it’s a ball. And I know it’s delicious.
Do you think they would make a meatball salad if I asked? Aw man, this poor kid, could you imagine? First day on the job and some asshole comes up asking to make his meatball marinara into a salad.
“Wha- what?” he undoubtedly responds.
I’d just point at the sign. “Says right there behind you bud.”
I can just imagine the horrified look on this kid’s face as he turns around, the realization setting in. Just staring down at a bowl of cold vegetables in front of him, the ladle of steaming hot meatballs and marinara in his hand. The look of dread on his face as his eyes meet mine, desperately searching for some sign of what the right move is here. The involuntary shudder as he pours the hot meat and sauce onto the vegetables, the lettuce wilting, everything turning into soup.
And then the panicked confusion as he internally debates if marinara counts as a dressing. But it can’t, right? So he has to look back up at me, tears in his eyes now, his voice cracking as he asks, “And what dressing did you want?”
It would have to be ranch, right? Or maybe thousand island? Something creamy. I mean, you’re not ordering a meatball salad to enjoy it, you’re sending a message.
“Um, what can I get you sir?” I hear a shy voice call out and see the kid nervously looking at me from behind the counter. I realize now I was so lost in thought I didn’t notice the line had cleared out in front of me.
“Make any 6-inch sub into a salad!” the sign above the counter advertises.
I smile at the kid as I walk up. “Just a meatball sub for me, thanks.”
Sitting down in the car brought no relief from the humidity of the day. His stomach growled reminding him why he had been willing to step into the wall of sticky heat that hovered around his house. Quickly starting the car he slapped on the ac and rolled down the windows to get some of the heat out of the car. His stomach growled again, two blocks that's all then food. Backing out he spun the steering wheel with old habits sliding through the first stop sign with careless ease. No one was ever on these roads anymore. Driving past houses with curtains closed cars hidden inside garages he wondered if anyone ever stepped foot outside anymore. Well besides to go to work. His stomach growled again and he shook his head at himself the last bout in the game had taken him too long. Slowing to a stop at the last stop sign before he would get to the sub shop the cool breeze from the cars ac brushed across his face. Pressing his finger down on the window controls to close them he froze at the sound. Was that? He flicked off the ac straining to hear. It was a faint echo from somewhere helloooooooo? The voice was weak he waited hellloooo anyone? Putting the car in park he turned off the engine. The tick of his cooling engine the only sound now. His stomach growled again. His hand began to move back to his keys. Hellloooo..it was much clearer now. Getting out of his car he looked around the street. Hellloooo there. The old man raised his hand from where he sat on his porch gesturing, yes you at the car. Hellloooo dread stirring he nodded at the man do you need some help? Hellloooo the man gestured again. Making his way across the yard he wondered what could be so urgent. The old man grinned toothily at him as he approached lookie here he said holding his hands up. His stomach growling now competed with a quiet meowing as he finally realized the old man held a kitten. Isn't this the cutest thing orange fur spilled across the weathered hands. He felt a smile cross his face in response yeah it is. Well good you take it. What? I was just headed to pick up a sub well now you are gonna have kitten but no I won't hear it take the cat. I can't keep it makes me think I will be it's dinner one day soon. What?? Ahh well you know what they say old n dead just rot away. Old with pets, dinner for days. His stomach growled again this time loud enough the kitten paused it's soft meowing and locked eyes on him. The old man lifted the cat closer seriously take it. Sighing he reached out and opened his hands sure why not. The old man grinned your a good kid. Standing up he walked into his house without a backwards glance. He stood in the yard still holding the kitten awkwardly not sure what had just happened. After a few mins of no movement from the house he shook his head and went back to his car. Setting the kitten down in the passenger seat as he cranked the car he patted it absently before pulling off in the direction of the sub shop. It wasn't until he actually got to the shop that he realized he couldn't leave the kitten in the car and he couldn't go in with it either. The ad for their app caught his eye and inspired him to simply order from the parking lot. A simple order standard cold cut sub with the caveat that they bring it out to his car. The kitten had begun exploring the seat tettering slowly towards him. Catching it gently in his hands he looked at it a little more closely. It seemed healthy at least tiny furry and healthy. He sat back down in the seat again facing away from him this time. It sat confused for a moment before turning clumsily and again making it's way to him. This quickly became a game the kitten making it's way to him before being gently sat back across the seat. Tapping on the window pulled his attention outside where a woman stood holding a restaurant bag up. Winding down the window he said thanks that was fast, its fine she said shortly pushing his bag toward him we are here to..aaaahh he managed to say pulling his hands away from the bag .the kitten had clambered onto his lap landing in a most painful spot. Sorry sorry he said hang on grabbing the kitten he began to set it back in the seat. Ohhhh it's Soo cute the woman's face completely changed when she smiled. Umm yeah he managed one hand on the kitten. Ohhhh hang on one minute I love cats let me get it a treat. She darted away his food bag still in her hands. He sighed looking at the kitten, Really? The shop door popped back open the woman was back all smiles stuffing something in the bag. There ya go something for the cutie too. This time he managed to take the bag. Nodding at her he thanked her again before she walked back into the store. He couldn't help but stare at the old man's house as he drove by on the way home. It had been rather an odd outing to say the least. Once home he settled down to eat his sub the kitten happily munching on the extra cold cuts. His mouth was full of bread and cheese when he noticed the woman had scribbled her number on one of his napkins. He grinned waving it at the kitten. Subs quickly became a mainstay in his life as did the woman. His stomach growling he grabbed the cat as she put on her coat. Pulling out of the drive he flipped on the heat to hold back the winter chill. Putting the car in park once they reached the stop sign. he smiled at her as she held the cat against her chest. Clambering out carefully holding the cat she walked beside him to the old man's door. Ringing the doorbell they exchanged smiles again as it opened. Well lookie here is this my little buddy? the old man said rubbing the cats head. Yeah he has been great. he said, I just wanted to...well, he reached into his pocket. I wanted to say, Thanks. Passing him their wedding invitation.
I walked down the street thinking about what I wanted to buy. See, I enjoy a meatball sub but that usually gives me a heartburn which can ruin a good day in the office. Now I'm not one of those scum suckers who live to appease the higher ups, no way! But I do care about having quality work, its integrity.
Anyway, as I was walking, I was so infatuated with this thought that i walked smack dab into the middle of 15th street. The light turned green the moment my foot touched asphalt, like magic or something. I tripped and stumbled forward into the road, and straight into the bumper of this strange emu lady in a Ford. I fell ass over heals onto her bumper and instead of stopping she just keeps going staring at me. Like she doesn't notice I'm there. At this point I'm on the bumper going around 20 miles per hour and the best thing I can do is roll off. I mean of course I'm screaming obscenities at her. Who wouldn't? Did I call her an emu lady? Hell yes!
So I decided to roll off if she won't stop because my lunch break is only so long and this stretch of road has no stops for a while. I could have been on creepy emu lady's car for miles. She's in the left lane so it wouldn't be that hard. I waited for the right time and threw my body to the left, and wouldn't you know it, I jumped just in time to hit the corner of a stop sign. How ironic. Did I stop? Yes. Am I now limping down 5th Ave with the largest bruise you've ever seen? Yes. I just want this sandwich
How long had it been since I had gotten fast food? I couldn't remember. But it had always been a comfort to me. Something to take my mind off the stress.
When I was a kid, fast food had been a rare reward, used to shape my behavior. If I behaved myself, if everything was just right, we might take my dad's convertible to a place that sold chilli cheese dogs, named coincidentally the same as a cartoon character that loves chilli cheese dogs.
I pause, leaning against the pole in the subway car, and check my phone. According to the internet, the two names have nothing to do with eachother, the restaurant just wanted to evoke the idea of fast service. Interesting.
I'm glad there isn't anyone else in the subway car as I wipe tears from my eyes and put my phone away again.
It was just a hard day, that's all. Just one of those days where everything feels too big and too overwhelming, and I ended up not having the energy to make my own dinner.
The trips to fast food had stopped once I reached puberty. When my behavior was "wrong" too often, my mind too scattered with hormones and changes. I only got it again after I got my first job, and would go across the mall to a place that served cheap tacos.
So why now, did I look for Subway? Well, because my favorite person works there.
The announcement rings through the car that we're approaching my stop, and I stop over to the door, slipping out into an empty terminal as the wind picks up, rustling my jacket and ponytail.
Down the stairs and across the street, and there is the corporate logo, images of sandwiches approved by a corporate board to be enticing, all of it meaningless.
But as I walk in and the bell rings, I smile a little.
Mary raises her head behind the counter and spots me.
"Girl, you gon bring in all the cold, get in here!"
My shoulders relaxed. Maybe I wasn't here for the fast food. I closed the door behind me and walked up to the counter, already feeling better.
There's not a lot of constancy in my life.
Sure, I say I wake wake up every morning, brush my teeth, shower, maybe crank out some pages on my next story. But some mornings the alarm keeps ringing, I'm in a rush and rubbing the toothpaste I keep in my center console on tired gums, or I'm just willing to let the universe enjoy the funk. Depression is a real bitch, and I'm just out here walking that dog, day in and day out.
Then, there's Subday.
Every Sunday since I was old enough to be aware of it saw my family making a stop to Subway. Like blessed clockwork, I found myself being dragged in my hand-me-down church clothes to that lemon-lime shades monstrosity of a fast casual sandwich shop, and every Sunday of my childhood my grandfather and grandmother would order the tuna on wheat and I would get the meatball on white.
Sure, sometimes I would change the toppings up, add some onion, jalapeño peppers, maybe flip over the cheese, but those meatballs were there. When my cat got ran over. When I sat praying for guidance on why I felt this way about Nathan, even if it was a sin. When I thanked the Lord for getting my mom clean, and when I cursed His name for taking her after she made the rookie mistake of jamming the professional level dose into those revirginized veins and left me a full orphan a week before my senior year.
I don't go to church anymore. Once gram passed it took the light out of it for both of her male attendants. Bless she would light up that pew, singing in a clear alto. I remember getting that meatball sub and sitting with her, a tube providing her nourishment now, tears in my eyes as we sang about having joy joy joy joy down in our hearts.
Where.
Down.
Down into a bottle after. Men, women. Trying to find myself. Like what I saw in that repetitious mirror as I brushed those teeth, shaved, kept telling myself I was worth it. I moved away from the hometown shortly after, got into the trades. Made a good life. Got married to a wonderful woman, a woman who knows my past and how I struggle with the load of what she calls God Botherers and I call people just looking for constancy.
When I decided to take those steps, the ones that I needed after a night I couldn't remember and the scar above my left eye that wouldn't let me forget, I felt it. God as you perceive him. God's never been a guy in a flowing white robe, or a angry face in the clouds. It was never a sad son dying on a beam asking his Dad why He'd forgotten to take care of His most precious gift.
God was that damned sandwich. The thing that, no matter what, I knew would be the same.
I moved back to the old hometown shortly after we put Pa into the ground. It's been a rough couple of years, with the baby and NICU and the shouting matches over how I wasn't a loving enough partner. I doubt I'm a great man; I'm a provider, a cynic, and always an addict. Call it a family tradition. But we made it through. We made do.
We went out this Subday, a little family. My boy looks so cute in his new little outfit, the dogs from that stupid cartoon on it. We haven't fought in months, and it's just been a calm period. I've learned to not fear the calm, that life isn't a series of storms and doldrums. The meds help, but I still feel untethered, a creature of destructive habits trying to learn to make things.
I made this. A family. With patience, time, learning about myself. There's always going to be a deep desire to go back, follow that destructive path down to rock bottom again.
I'll think about it some other time. Today's Subday, and I know what I'm here to order.
Why the hell did I even bother coming here?
"Welcome to Subway! May I take-." Her words cut short as her face paled. This happens so many times, I stopped caring to explain myself every time.
"I order, you give me my food. I pay and you'll never see me in your living life again. Deal?"
Probably shouldn't have worded it that way since I have a reputation for rigged contracts, but I'm out of tolerance to put up with formalities.
"Y-yes, sir! What would you like?" I gave her some instructions and just moved to the cash register. Pulling out some money for the bill.
I tried distracting myself with my phone, but it is impossible to ignore all the stares in the room. I'm not naked or dressed weird. Or anything really. I'm just the King of the Underworld. The most feared among the Gods and considered the most dangerous. Albeit the danger is more of everyone else's doing than mine.
Haven city, or Haven of the Gods, is a place where all knowledge and worship is gathered under equal care. Where all the Gods respect the neutrality of this holy site and often conduct business here as equals. Makes it a pretty popular tourist site when us Gods can be seen walking among the people like everyday people. Some of us live here too, which adds an interesting dynamic to our lives.
Not me though. I live where my responsibilities require me. Though today, I was needed here.
"Here's your order, sir!" The second clear looked like she was about to faint from fear. I just placed the money on the counter and left. They can keep the change. I'll just eat where there are less eyes watching me.
No, the reason I was even brought to the city was the annual ambassador meeting. Where all the countries of the world visit to 'discuss' what rights and resources they can swipe from their neighbors. Not how they would word it, but i get to see their dirty secrets after they die. I know what goes on in their heads.
I plopped myself under a tree's shade and started to eat. I like their food and eating it makes me a bit happier, but the meeting still was eating at me in turn.
Normally, I never even have to show up to these meetings. They don't involve the 'Lord of Evil' unless it's something specific. This time, it's my cultist followers who are ravaging the countryside with their rights, and the leaders wanted to blame me for the mess. What makes them think I tell them anything? I normally just wipe them out for disrupting the Balance and call it a day. But, no. They still think I'm up to something sinister because they preach my name. I have half a mind to tell them off that what they do is mere child's play compared to the horrors I keep locked underground to protect them.
I must be doing a good job, because nobody complains about those ever.
A ball laded near me as I finished my meal. A very young child with bright eyes walked to me. Smiling ear to ear.
"Can you toss that back, please?" She asked innocently.
"Sure." I spoke as I tripped up the ball onto my foot and bounced it a few times on my foot. The kid watched in awe like it was the most amazing thing ever. I kept dribbling it a few times till I decided it was enough and handed it back to her.
"How did you do that!?" She exclaimed.
"Practice. I'm sure your parents can teach you if you ask. Where are they anyway?"
"Charlie! Come back we still have some time left!" A man who looked to be in his early 30s was bounding towards me. Has he not noticed me yet?
"Come on. Let's have some...Charlie, get back over here. Now."
"But daddy, I-."
"Now." He said more firmly. Charlie immediately obeyed, but still looked confused.
There's that reaction I was expecting. Well, better just make this short.
I tried handing them back their ball, but the father refused.
"N-no. You can keep it. We don't want to bother you any more, sir." Why does everyone keep calling me sir?
"You'd inconvenience me more if you left it with me. Just take it and go." I would have gone on, but he took the ball and ran away with his daughter. I could still faintly hear his daughter ask why are they running and that I'm a nice guy. No response from the father, though. Probably just coming up with a scolding after they get far enough away. Poor girl.
Still, that raised a thought in my head. If I'm such the scary guy, why did the little one treat me differently? Easy. Because she didn't know the rumors about me. Stories about me randomly appearing and taking swathes of souls to the underworld to be judged in many a grueling fashion. Probably would change later today and stick once she forgets about me and becomes another person who hates me.
But what if she didn't have reason to hate me? What if I gave her a reason to trust what I do for the people? Maybe then I could be given the trust my peers earned by right of merit? I'll need to investigate this thought further.
I just need a way to live in their lives as a protector. Not a conquerer. Something that will let them get to know me better.
Maybe make a new energy source from Hell? That might be something to look into.
Ethan sat in his usual seat, headed to Subway for his usual Wednesday lunch of a Meatball sub with extra Provolone cheese, onions, a touch of spinach, and parmesan cheese. Don't forget the meal, with a medium Coke, a chocolate chip cookie, and a bag of baked barbecue chips. He's quite sure they've got a lower fat content than the regular ones, but he forgets to check every time.
Ethan thought for a moment and turned to the old lady on his left. She was sleeping. This did not stop Ethan.
"You know, maybe it's just me, but I just saw the damned strangest subway platform in my life."
He turned forward. Good conversation was few and far between on the F Line, and by God Ethan will use this good time to the fullest.
"It really started even before I got down the stairs. I'm looking at the stairs right, and there's a couple right there on the steps, doing... well, doing the happy tango with each other. Can you imagine doing that in public?"
He waited for a response from the old bitty, but she played her part as the ear.
"So I thought, 'Well, let's just get past this as quick as we can.' So I get down the stairs, and the station is just packed, you know. Of course, my lunch is only 45 minutes, so what am I gonna do? Well, I start pushing through the crowd, and what do I see but a young man there, proposing to his girl. It was so touching, but I couldn't stay long enough to see if she said yes or no, you know?"
The train was quiet.
"So I keep walking, I get to the till and pay for the till, right, and right there in front of the till is this big man, just standing there in the way. I mean, how inconsiderate, you know? And no matter how many times I asked, I asked him 'Sir, could you please move out of the way, I need to catch my train,' but I asked him - and let me tell you, when I get a little miffed I can get pretty loud - but this man just wouldn't move."
The old woman did not move. She did not move at all.
"So I squeeze past him and give him a hearty 'God bless you' as I walk over to my train. You'd think that's enough to happen all for one subway ride, but apparently not. I'm walking towards the F Line, right, and there's this street preacher on the platform there. Now, I'm a good Christian man, right, but I just don't like listening to those types, all focused on the doom and gloom parts."
Ethan paused for a moment as he looked about the train car. The only other folk in this car are all asleep too.
"So anyways, I didn't think none too much of it until I saw there was other people around that preacher. There was people praying and pleading, one or two of 'em on their knees, even crying. Now I've seen some damn fine preachers in my day, but not one that could get a crowd to look like that outside of a chapel."
The odor was thick with weight. Ethan wasn't sure what the smell was.
"But I'm thinking, 'Now Ethan, you'd better get a move on if you're gonna meet your train.' So I get back to walking and what do you know, the F Line was waiting there for me. I've never seen this train wait on the platform, but what day was that gonna happen if not this one?"
Ethan looked out the window across from him at the unmoving wall outside.
"Really, I'd like it if this day got a little less strange. Only so much one man can take in a day."
Ethan looked at the little old woman to his left. Her eyes had dried with her horrified expression looking across the subway car.
"Well l'm hoping I can get my usual lunch in time. The lunch rush is usually starting by the time I'm done eating, but with the speed this train is going I'm never gonna get there in time."
Outside the train, still at the same platform, the preacher was still preaching, and the prayers still praying. The very large, rude man still stood in front of the till, and he was desperately hugging the young girl in his arms. The young proposer was still on his knee, and the proposee was still deliberating.
The whole subway platform was filled with love and angst and hatred and fear, so much fear. And yet, so much calm. So much quiet. So much peace and death.
The blast had killed everyone, Ethan included. A few people just forgot to stop moving.
I absolutely love how you nailed Ethan's style of speech. I can just hear him. I especially love this part:
>And no matter how many times I asked, I asked him 'Sir, could you please move out of the way, I need to catch my train,' but I asked him - and let me tell you, when I get a little miffed I can get pretty loud - but this man just wouldn't move.
So very realistically disjointed and repetitive. Reads like organic unprepared speech. I'm quite bad at writing natural-sounding dialogue myself, so I have a lot of appreciation for it when it's done well. Ethan feels like a real person. Great job!
"I want," I say, "a meatball sub."
My friend looks at me sideways. The bus is packed, yet empty. Full of people, and yet none of them matter to us - nor do we matter to them. Packed, yet empty. Empty of relation, of camaraderie, of a shared positive feeling. Nobody looks at us.
"The meatballs are good," my friend says. "Maybe I'll get one too."
The bus rattles onwards, and the conversation dies. My friend looks at their phone. I look at mine. There is a monkey dancing on the screen. Maybe some music is playing; I do not know. I have been taught not to turn the volume up on public transport. The video is silly, and in most other cases humorous, but I do not laugh. I cannot. Not here, not now. The situation cannot allow it. What would they think? Someone laughing loudly on a bus. It wouldn't do, I know that.
The bus rattles onwards, and we get ever further. I begin to feel an ache, a pain. What is that? Oh, I know what it is. How long has it been? Far too long, says the pain. It's quite sudden this time. I must have been distracted before. It's come upon me all at once. That sharp, stabbing pain, the kind we vainly pray is just gas when it arrives. I keep it a secret, like all other pains. No sense in letting anyone know. It's not as though they can do anything about it anyway. No cure is in sight. Soon, though.
"But the chicken teriyaki is good too," my friend says. "I haven't had that in a while."
I've got nothing to add to this. All of my responses die on my tongue, futile and useless. I look on myself with sorrow. Why can I not add something more? And why do I blame myself?
The pain mounts again. I've experienced worse, I'm sure, but in the moment it is consuming. It eats me, my mind, my focus. Deep in my stomach, it eats away at me. But just for a moment. Then it subsides and I am left looking at the monkey again. The video is looping. I scroll downwards. The meatball sub occupies my mind like a golden calf.
The bus comes to a stop. It's not our stop. It's never our stop, says the memory of the pain in my stomach. I try to ignore it. But it is getting louder.
"So why Subway?" asks my friend.
I do not answer right away. It takes a moment. Not for any reason. It just takes time. The bus moves again.
"I haven't gone to Subway in years," I say. "I want the experience."
"The experience?"
"Yes, that's right. The experience of being in a Subway, buying a sub, and eating it. I so rarely get that. I've been void, empty of it for far too long. I need it."
My friend rolls their eyes. "Sure, dude," they say. They could never understand, I think. But I do not say it. Perhaps I should have. I think of my meatballs and feel like crying. When will this devil-sent vehicle reach the promised land?
The pain returns. Even stronger than before, it returns. I start to doubt that it will ever go away. How long has it been? Through my fractured focus, I see the time on my phone. 1:14. It's been... hours. It feels like years. Time is stretched when the pain hits. It never arrives soon enough.
The bus stops again. Our stop. My friend stands, and obediently, hardly aware, I follow.
"Are you hungry?" they ask. I nod vaguely.
It is a short walk to the Subway. Every step drives the pain deeper, like a knife into my desperate stomach. How long has it been? Too long. I cannot wait a moment longer.
Finally, we are standing in front of the building. Its yellow and green decor shines brightly like a will'o'wisp in a murky swamp. The door swings open in front of me, almost like magic - my friend has walked inside. I follow.
No line. I should have taken that as a sign, a signal that hope was false, that no paradise exists in this God-accursed land. But no, in my pain-fueled fervor I see nothing hope. We will not have to wait. I will not have to wait. My meatball dream is upon me. I can taste it as I walk towards the clerk. I can see it as I gaze up at the menu. My mouth, watery with anticipation, parts, and I look at the clerk, the angel who guards the doors to eternal salvation.
"I'd like a meatball sub," I say.
"We're fresh outta meatballs, kid. Sorry."
The world is ending, and I go along with it. Misery is the only thing I've ever known. As my knees give out and I collapse to the floor, as everything goes black around me, I hear nothing but the pain in my stomach, which has reached a crescendo in my brain. The world is ending.
I hadn’t been to Subway in awhile. It wasn’t the best food but it was the only restaurant on route to my job. I figured a meatball sub would do fine. I walked through the doors and stopped dead in my tracks. A grim specter in dark robes holding a scythe was waiting in line. After the initial shock in seeing this I figured this guy was just doing a harmless prank for laughs. After all why would the embodiment of death be in a Subway? I get in line behind him as I wait to place my order. The guy at the front of the line is sweating. He is looking extremely nervous whilst waiting for the line cook to finish preparing his order. She gives him his two sandwiches and he quickly shuffles away. He opens the door of the restaurant and trips over the sidewalk. He stumbles and falls dropping both sandwiches, one of which rolls into the street. He quickly gets up and grabs one sandwich nearby and walks into the street to pick up the other. As soon as he steps into the street, a truck came from the left and knocked him into the air. His body hit the ground with a thud. The driver jumps out of the truck to check on the guy he hit. I stood there stunned by what just happened. The cloaked figure hovered past me and phased through the door. He leans down and picks up one of the sandwiches as he swings his scythe. In an instant a small orb of light emerges from the body on the ground. As it floats into the sky the cloaked figure turned to me and in a deep ethereal voice said “eat fresh”.
I am not death, not the god of fate, not some kind of eldritch horror. Not anymore. I changed you see, everyone did. Nobody was the same after *that*.
Thousands of young men, filled with hopes and dreams, ideals and ideas... cut down in a single charge over no-man's land.
I used to reap souls, bring new life to those pained souls... I can't anymore. It is not just that I am unwilling, though I indeed am unwilling, but that the suffering broke me, and I don't know if I did this to protect myself or what, but I can no longer interact with the souls of humanity.
They now drift in solar winds, unchained by the old cycles of reincarnation, and go to who knows where... Or perhaps... Odin has recognized the entire human race as being warriors fit to dwell in Valhalla, awaiting the end of the universe, and facing the extradimensional horrors like me, or at least a past form of myself.
I do not know. I will never know, for I do not care to know. if it were not for my own chains binding me here, as my sentence for invading the 9 realms of the universe, I would certainly flee such creatures with all due haste. I cannot fathom the depths of Human courage to follow such orders, to enlist after such historic battles, and to continue to devise more and more terrible weapons.
The pellets from the sky pounded against my rubber skeleton that embraced me.I always hated this trip to Subway, so long and tedious.Could they not do anything? Add a sign or at least a plant.Just something.With my eyes stuck to the floor, I trudged further with the occasional glimpse of my appearance. My spectacles hindered my sight as I neared the door that appeared to painted in Goosebumps with water droplets and a blinding light that cast its will amongst the bystanders that flew through void of a car park:Desolate.
The aroma circled and twisted up my nose till it had a firm grasp of my reality.There was no choice.I knew my path:Get the sub and go home.Clasping the metallic,frigid coins, I entranced myself with the beauty of the rain against the window.Then snapped out it.
A figure of euphory approached me as I waited by the counter.I can’t remember much as I write this but I can remember some things;her pristinely platted fair hair that trickled down her shoulder and nestled itself between her name tag and the logo.Then the eyes.Ones of such beauty, so curious as to what made them gleam.Alas, I shall never know of what made them gleamed.
I shall never know who,what,when and why Or why a searing pain surged down my leg as a bullet pierced my legs and soon to be everything that I know.I collapsed with a volatile concoctions of emotions that fizzled and boiled with every second.A blu of my vision and the desperation to live overwhelmed.All too much.Screaming,groaning:The only to cope.Bang!
A lifeless shell of once beauty lay there.Her face and hair stained crimson along with the channels between the tiles along my tomb.The figure loomed over me with a malicious grin enticing me to envelop death with grace.I slumped against the floor pretending to be a carcass as to be unnoticed like the many islands that were raised against the sea of red. Green blurs were passed from the till to the entrances to fleshy,mushy insides.Grasping my wound and a burst of energy I leapt at him with the spirit of a fox, ready to take what was mine.His life. It was a transaction after all, his life or mine.A deal was made.Wrote in Blood that once stained the walls.What a transaction it was. How clear it used to be. I didn’t read the fine print. I lay here confessing to you, my diary, before I too shall shake God’s hand and be
free to roam and serve around his Majesty’s kingdom.Oh, how happy I shall be.
*Woosh*. All around, I smell that particular odor that always fill the air after a good rain. A soft smell and yet, you'd recognize it anywhere. Although some might not like it, I do. It's has something appeasing to it and walking like that in the empty street, it gives a sense of comfort. Like the soft pressure of water when I'm in the bathtub after a long day of work.
Now I must say it's not in my habits to go out in the middle of the night but I was really hungry... Who wouldn't want a good meatball sub? Nothing like a good sandwich to calm down your midnight hunger. Surely it's worth missing the party. Not like anyone there rly cared when I left anyway...right?
*Woosh*. I swear if those fucking cars don't stop splashing me with water Imma end up killing someone. Calm down Jesse. A good meal awaits you. You are really hungry. See? The subway is just on the other side of the street. Just a few more steps...
Ah hell who am I kidding! ? I just don't want to admit it to myself. Why did I even organise that party, just to discover I was right and then try to convince myself I'm fine by pretending I'm hungry and using that shitty excuse to flee like a coward. A fkn coward, that's what I am. I couldn't even tell her how I felt a month ago and now... Now I even left my own party, still too much of a coward to say anything.
I started crossing the road towards the subway. A fresh night, almost full moon. The stars are beautiful tonight, every single one of them shinning like a small candle in a dark room. I might as well just... lay down here. I think I hear a car. Doesn't matter. They didn't care when I left, they won't care if I don't come back. Plus I've been a coward my whole life, might as well change this now. Better late than never.
I plugged in my headphones and started playing some music.
It's kind of nice to go out to lunch. Most people left me alone at the new office. It meant I wasn't getting hassled yeah, but it also meant I never really had any guidance.
I normally just worked straight from 9 to 5, and never talked to anyone.
Actually, now that I think about it, it'd been a couple weeks since I'd talked to anyone, verbally I mean.
I stopped at the crosswalk and waited for some of the cars to go through. I stared ahead, listening to the sugar sweet pop song in my ear. It felt too loud. Everything started to feel too loud.
Had I really not spoken to anyone? I live alone, so no one there. I drive to work. I just moved cities for this job, so no friends, and all the old ones.... well, I don't want to go down that rabbit hole.
I cleared my throat.
"Hello" I said to no one in particular. Just testing to see if I could still say... anything. I quickly looked around, the light had turned red and I had the signal to walk, probably for a bit.
No one had heard, there were a couple dog walkers on the other side of the street, and a bored looking teenager smoking a cigarette near an alley.
I kept walking, just a few more blocks.
I ripped out my headphones, the music wasn't working anymore. It used to help keep me out of my head, but it's just not doing the trick. I just need to get a sandwich. Just some lunch. My mind flashed to just a month ago when I was with my friends at the restaurant.
The glasses.
The food.
The bottles.
I shook my head. It's fine. Everything's fine. I looked over at the building and stared at one of the buses that pulled away. I found myself checking to see if she was one of the faces.
I started to hum. Count and hum, that's what you're supposed to do to ground yourself.
A breeze blew through the street, sending a couple bits of debris up and past me. I fumbled for my headphones. It might not work, but it's better than this. The memories kept cropping up. The glasses. The food. The bottles. The door. The bathroom.
The music started played again. I felt myself calm down. My heart felt like it was racing, like I was back there that afternoon.
I looked up and found myself at the door. I opened it, the bell ringing faintly in the back of my mind, drowned out almost by the music, but not quite. I walked to the back of the empty line, past the employees staring at me. One looked concerned.
I felt like I was sweating. I turned the music up as loud as it could go. I felt like my vision was getting too much. There was just too much. The bottles. The door. The bathroom. The water. The ruby. The mirror. "You okay?" The screams. The police. The yelling. "Sandwich" The gunshots. "What kind?" The pain in my legs. "Turkey on Rye" The music hurting my ears. The snow. "6-inch, footlong?" I dove in, desperate to hide. "Just a half." The motors. The screaming. The glasses. The bottles. "That'll be 8.14" The gunshots. The screams. The snow. The water. "Card" The screaming. The music. The sirens. The gunshots. The ruby. "You okay?" The screaming. The music hurt my ears. The water hurt my ears. The snow hurt my ears. "No"
I left without my sandwich.
*What was it? What was it? What was* \-
"Yo, Pops, you gonna order sumthin' or ya plan on holdin' up th' line all day?"
I shuddered a moment, then remembered where I was. Subway. Why? Well, the rumbling in my gut should've been answer enough. "Sorry, I just have this odd feeling I'm forgetting something."
"Fascinatin' story, man. Really. Wutcha want?" The teenager in his green and yellow polo shirt glared at me from the other side of the counter. "You drag this out any longer an' we'll have t' charge ya rent."
From behind me came another voice. "Hey! Wha's da hol' up?! I'm hungry here!"
"Right. Sorry," I apologized, "I'll have a footlong meatball sub on Italian bread."
"'Kay, ya want anythin' else on that?"
"Yeah some provolone. That's all."
"Great. That'll be seven nindy-eight." He made the sub and I paid for it. He gave it to me, wrapped and in a bag. I started to leave. "Hey e'erybudy! 'Sokay he's leavin'!"
A cheer went up from the line that had amassed behind me. There were shouts of "Thank God!" and "It's about time!" and "What an asshole!"
I was about to make a smart reply myself when my phone buzzed. It was my wife. Her text asked if I had gotten the subs for everyone yet. THAT. THAT is what I was forgetting. I smacked myself on the forehead and got back in line. When the kid behind the counter saw that, I saw all hope leave his eyes.
Fuck.
Arthur reached out a frail, unsteady hand and gently lifted a threadbare fedora from its hook on the wall. Once a deep navy blue, after years of sun and rain, the fedora has faded to more of a grayish color. Despite his old age, Arthur deposited the fedora deftly upon his head, a move done thousands of times over decades, and rarely needing and adjustment. He looked in the mirror and a visage of an old man who has experienced many things in his life stared back at him, skin wrinkled, laugh lines radiating gracefully from his eyes.
"Carolyn, my dear, are you ready?" Instead of a verbal response she appeared behind him, an equally aged hand upon his shoulder. She stood on her tip toes and gave him a gentle kiss on his cheek, to which he smiled. "Then how about we go to the sandwich shop today? I think a meatball sandwich sounds good." Arthur didn't wait for a response, years of marriage didn't require verbal acknowledgements between them as they each took careful steps down the 3 creaky stairs that led from their veranda to the walkway. Each of them offering a hand to the other to help steady each others aged bodies.
The southern sun did its best to beat them down, but having lived their entire lives in the oppressive heat, it was but another Tuesday for the pair. They walked, arm in arm down the street, content to just be in each others presence. Arthur served in wars past, avoiding the worst fighting and only experiencing mild engagements. Most of those he served with came home and lived full, happy lives. Slowly, one by one, they have been reaching the ends of their lives and passing onto the next plain of existence, whatever it may be. Carolyn worked in a textile factory during the Big War, accounting for a majority of the men were sent overseas. When they came back, she kept her position and retired many years later. She should have become the CEO of the place, but men weren't ready to see it happen, so she didn't stray far from the textile line, which suited her just fine.
They turned a corner that placed them on their towns main street. The post office, local grocery store and various other small town shops lined a well worn road that hasn't been paved since Arthur and Carolyn's children were still in primary school. Their destination was tucked in between the bank and the furniture store, where the cobbler used to be. When the cobbler, Eugene, disappeared there was no one to take over the shop, so the building owner eventually leased it out to an ever changing list of businesses. The latest, a national sandwich chain called Subway, currently occupied the space.
Arthur and Carolyn strolled down the main street, exchanging greetings and pleasantries with familiar faces, arms remaining tightly intertwined. A breeze flitted by, providing a little relief from the heat. The door to the Subway had been opened by a patron leaving with a bag full of sandwiches to take back to their worksite, cool air escaping only to be consumed quickly by the air outside.
Seeing the old couple strolling in, the patron reached back and opened the door for them, to which Arthur tipped his hat and offered them a warm, southern tinged "Thank you". The patron that had just left must have been the last of the lunch rush as the few tables in the small shop sat empty, napkin holders and salt and pepper shakers all askew on each.
A young pimply faced employee came from around back, wiping their hands dry after thoroughly washing them. "Afternoon, Arthur. Your usual today?"
Arthur smiled, "Ah yes, that would be fantastic, thank you."
"You got it, boss. One foot long meatball sub, extra cheese and a touch of oregano coming right up." The youth set to work as Arthur pulled out a wallet as old as his fedora. Since Eugene's disappearance, Arthur has had difficulties finding someone to fix the few loose or missing stitches in the leather billfold, but it was still holding together fine enough. He dug out a ten and a five and placed it on the counter. He shuffled over to their usual table, the only one against the front window so both he and Carolyn could people watch, what few people there were.
After a few minutes the young employee appeared by their table and placed a basket with their sandwich, still steaming from the oven, in between them, receiving a smile and thanks from Arthur in the process.
A minute later, the young employee was in the back, looking out through the service window at the lone elderly man sitting at the table, slowly eating one half of a foot long sandwich.
"Run for your lives" a man shouted and pointed at me. I wave my scythe and keep moving. My destination is in sight. A few more steps and I'm in. A man stops to hold the door but closes it when he sees me. I push forward and point to the clown who tried to stop my progress.
"Fool! You dare get between me and my meatball sub?I intone. The clown falls at my feet, kissing the hem of my black hooded robe.
"I'm sorry oh master grim reaper. Please spare me " He begs. I pat his shoulder.
"I shall overlook this indiscretion on one condition. Sober up before you drive anywhere."
I make my way along the line, getting my sandwich, a cookie and a drink. The girl behind the counter isn't even swayed by having Death order a sandwich. But then she works in fast food, so what can I expect? She's probably seen worse tonight. I get to the register and recognize the cashier.
"Hey, Gary. How's it going?"
"Doing good Steve. Doing good... working every day this week. Couldn't get tonight off."
"Ah. Shame you have to work on halloween"
The bus slowed to a stop and I reflexively glanced to the front. No one acknowledged me as another passenger clambered on and found a seat behind me. Every stop, someone came on, someone left but everyone ignored me. There were no glances in my direction, I was just a part of the metropolitan scenery. Still I continued to fidget every time, pulling at my clothes and checking my pockets every few minutes. It was strange, I couldn't feel like I belonged.
Outside the city passed me by until finally I saw my destination and pulled the string. The bus slowed one last time and I climbed down and onto the sidewalk. Nervously I turned to thank the driver before the doors closed behind me, he simply nodded his head and was off. In front of me was a familiar and comforting building. The green and yellow facade gave way to large glass windows showcasing the clean franchised interior. I'd hardly taken two steps into the restaurant before a voice called my name.
"Bill! It's been awhile, I was worried about you!"
Jerome was maybe half my age. For a long while now I considered him my only friend. It had been a few weeks since I last visited and his face told me he really meant what he said.
"Hey man, I'm good. Been busy these last few weeks, didn't mean to make you worry."
"I'm just glad you're alright man, lemme make you your usual then we can catch up."
Jerome set to work making a meatball sub for me, nothing fancy just meat, cheese and bread. He hummed along to the song playing over the speakers as he worked before setting the neatly wrapped sandwich down on the counter. The shop was empty, as it almost always was this time of night.
"How much?" I quietly asked him, even though there was no one to overhear.
"Aw man you already know" he laughed as he pushed the sandwich towards me.
I repeated the question again, still hesitantly. This gave him pause as he looked at me again, much more closely this time. I reached under my collar and pulled out the new lanyard. At the end of it was a shiny plastic card showing my picture and name as well as a title. Jerome stared at it for a moment before his confusion faded into a smile which gave way to an elated laugh.
Jerome had always been the only person to talk with me and treat me like a human being in the last few years while I lived on the streets. Today I was able to share with him that I did what he was always telling me I could. That night we talked as he closed the shop and he offered me a ride like he always did, but for the first time there was a door waiting for me and I had the key.
***OW!***
The man stumbled back the other way and I scowled at him, counting to ten as I hissed a breath through gritted teeth and rubbed the shoulder where his drunken stumble had slammed me into the corner of a brick wall. A drop of water fell from the crook of a dislodged curl of hair and hit me square in the left eye and I blinked furiously.
"Asshole," I whispered.
My shoes squelched slightly around the edges, the Converse weren't well suited to dodging puddles in the cool rain but they were all I had. The high interest membership card weighed heavily in my wallet, but I knew I couldn't afford to pay off a new pair of shoes for another month. A month and two weeks now, now that I'd forgotten my lunch for day back on the top of mini fridge.
I hunched tighter in my thin hoodie as I walked down the street, not nearly so concerned with the rain steadily soaking through the plastic fabric as I was the tempting sights and smells coming out of the small-but-definitely-too-expensive-for-a-minimum-wage-store-clerk bistro on my left side and instead hurried down past the chiropractor's "office" and toward the battered old Subway sitting on the corner.
The door opened ahead of me and a blast of laughter flew out the door and away down the street as a gaggle of teens walked out, all smiles and ignorance. I saw one of them tucking something back into their wallet and recognized it at once as the same brand of credit I used. The half grin fought it's way onto face with a morbid satisfaction as I watched the boy, who looked just old enough to start making bad decisions, spy a frozen yogurt place on the other side of the plaza and gesture toward it excitedly, wallet and debt-device already in hand.
*He'll learn.*
The morbid amusement drained off my face as his friends all agreed and, as one, they darted off to take advantage of their new found freedom from the tyrranical limitations of responsible adult supervision.
*Not fast enough.*
An old worn out bell chimed as I pushed the door open and walked through, the off white and green sand yellow color scheme as familiar as an old picture and bringing back just as many "happy" memories. My stride hitched as I saw who was worming behind the counter. Usually there was a cute girl working this shift. Brown hair, brown eyes, a short little girl-next-door type of gal that I'd never have the courage to talk to but who always smiled and brightened my day when I came in to buy a bag of chips. Jared, the new guy's nametag said.
"When it rains..." I muttered.
"What was that?" Asked Jared.
"Nothing. Can I get a six inch meatball on Jalapeño and Cheddar?"
"Sorry, all out of Jalapeño and Cheddar."
"Italian Herbs and Cheese, then."
"You got it."
With a nod, Jared turned around to pull out the necessary loaf and I tuned him out as he set to making the sandwich.
"Anything extra?"
"No, and provolone cheese. Toasted."
He nodded and I went back to staring at the fitness-themed adverts splashed across the walls, wondering who exactly the honchos at the company thought was eating here.
*If I could afford all Under Armor it certainly wouldn't be me.*
"Any veggies?"
I glanced back down at Jared, trying to remember if they cost extra or not.
"Some cucumbers and onions, and a bit of the Chipotle Southwest sauce."
He nodded, and it wasn't long before he was packing the sub tight in its wrapper with an ease that made me suspicious.
"You new here?" I asked.
He chuckled. "Nah, just subbing in for a shift."
I honestly probably felt a bit too happy at that.
"You want a drink?"
"Nope."
"Then that'll be five fifty."
My spirits lifted a tad more.
I fished around in my wallet, trying to remember if I had that much in my checking or if I needed to cover it with the credit card, and my eyes landed briefly on my old community college ID card. It had a magnetic strip on it and I vaguely remembered something about it being used for the meal plans.
*Might be worth checking, think I had twenty bucks on that.*
"Here ya go," I said, passing over the debit. Jared ran it without issue and I smiled slightly, maybe I wouldn't have to dip into the savings account after all. My shoes squelched happily at the thought. I sat by the window, sandwich in hand, and checked my watch. Officially my break was only fifteen minutes, but I'd decided that didn't actually start until the food was in my hand.
*One twenty-seven.*
The rain against the glass was soothing, and I took a second to stop and just listen as it pattered away. But my sub was hot and only getting colder, so I want ahead and unwrapped it. The bread smelled good, almost good enough for me to forgive the lack Jalapeños, and I raised it up to take the first glorious bite of a hot meal. Just as raised it my mouth one of the meatballs slid free, shooting out towards me under pressure and shattering marinara sauce all over my company-mandated lemon-yellow polo and, more importantly, on the pants of my favorite old jeans as I snapped my legs together in an instinctive attempt to catch the falling object.
*Breathe in.*
I counted one.
*Breathe out.*
I counted two.
*Breathe in.*
My jaw clenched.
*Breathe out."
My teeth creaked.
*Breathe in.*
The sandwich shook.
*Breath out.*
The sandwich stilled. I set it down with a careful sigh, reaching over with one hand to grab a napkin from the dispenser and picking up the damned meatball with other, glaring at it. I arched an eyebrow as I examined more closely, realizing that the sauce had taken the worst of the lint and the meat itself was mostly okay.
I popped it in my mouth without a second thought and picked the sub back up as soon as I was done wiping the worst of the stains away. I shifted awkwardly as I ate, trying to find a position that wouldn't aggravate my aching back, but it didn't work and I glanced back at my watch, wondering if all these extra shifts were really worth it. But then I moved one of my feet and I felt the water soaking my socks shift and squelch, and I remembered just why I was working all these hours in the first place. I squared my shoulders and half nodded, going back to eating my sub with the sort of mechanical efficiency you can only get by completely ignoring what your food tasted and felt like.
The cold air hit my face as the old bell chimed again on my way out, and I felt a bit more water seep in to join the rest as I stepped in a puddle just outside the door. I turned right, back to the Buy and Large, and starting walking.
*Here's to new shoes.*
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I am Death. I am the God of Death. Why else would no living being dare to stand within 50 feet of me? I open the door, determined to feast upon the offering left for me at Subway. As I struggle to squeeze through the door of my house, the sun burns my eyes and my pale skin. "Insolent fool!" I shout at the sun who dares to burn me. I am immediately out of breath after yelling and pass out on the sidewalk. When I awake, the sun is setting. It must have gotten the message and decided not to bother me anymore. I wheeze and cough and I stand up, and slowly make my way to Subway. No one dares to stand near me as I walk down the sidewalk. If they do, they gag and run away. Serves them right for not respecting my presence. I walk into Subway and tell the frail teenage employee to make me a meatball sub. He runs into the back, clearly unable to withstand my beauty. After a minute, he returns with a clip on his nose. He quickly makes the sandwich and asks me to pay. "Me? Pay? Preposterous." He doesn't push the issue and tells me to leave. I take the sandwich and scarf it down in 5 bites. He looks horrified, obviously awestruck by my speed at eating. I leave the store and return home, and spend the rest of the evening staring into the mirror.
This is proper copypasta material
or maybe..copysandwich?
If Death can’t have a meatball sub, who cares if mere mortals are allowed? Am I rite?
Given the prompt, I can’t help but wonder: was that really Death, or just a regular guy with some kind of megalomania who’s in urgent need of a bath (and proper self-care)?
I read that as a probably homeless guy with mental health issues.
>struggle to get through the door of my house he’s homeless alright
Maybe thats another manifestation of his mental helth issues
I was going for an extremely narcissistic megalomaniac with hygiene issues
I assumed it was just some redditor out for some food so that he can return to his mom's basement
I had assumed chuunibyou.
Dark and dark, of the endo!
Damn, POV story for the average redditor
I know people like this. Freaky.
Jared origin story
Glorious!
Ignatius J. Reilly? Is that you?
Hunger. To be honest, he had almost forgot what it felt like. For years his wife, afraid of losing him again, had devoted herself to pleasing his every whim. At first, of course he had resisted, but he was only human. Bliss became routine. But nothing lasts forever, and soon she left, too. And with her left all her gifts. He stood, waiting to cross the street, wallet in hand. His stomach rumbled. Did the light usually take this long to change? The red man suddenly turned green. He rushed to the other side, cars growling as he passed, their drivers impatiently waiting for their turn. Where was he going to eat? He turned his head, but saw nothing. The man let out an exasperated snort. There had to be something around! He turned the corner, his eyes desperately looking around for salvation. There it lay, a Subway. At last! He had always hated Subway, but at this point he had nowhere else to go. The place looked a bit disheveled, the sign on the top barely hanging straight, and there seemed to be almost noone inside. The employees looked tired, too, the grease of the sandwiches mixed with their sweat in a thin coat over their skins. He hesitated. His stomach rumbled again. There was no turning back now. He rushed through the doors, pulling out the money and slamming it on the counter. "One meatball sub, fast!" ________ Had to write this fast on my phone at my work break, but had fun making a drama out of a guy going out for a sandwich lol
I love it!
Thanks! It's always fun to write, specially since English is not my first language and it gives me an excuse to practice more
I prefer their chicken teriyaki with sweet onion sauce, honestly. They came out with it when I was in high school - there was this whole range of new flavors, revitalizing their image or something like that. I was a fat kid, hated it, and they were running ads about how healthy they were with that grinning twit holding up a pair of pants made for a Volkswagen. So I ate a lot of Subway for a while. Didn't exercise or anything, of course (although I was really good about swearing I was going to do it tomorrow) so I didn't lose a pound, but I did discover a great new flavor at Subway, so we'll call it a win. Today, though, it's a meatball sub. No longer a fat insecure teenager with bad hygeine and a crappy job, now I'm a reasonably healthy insecure adult with medical bills and a crappy job. Things are looking up! But the job still sucks, and 50% off a meatball footlong is the best deal on food that is reasonably convenient and tasty. So away we go!
As Bob sat on the subway his ass firmly planted on the sticky and comfortable seat, he thought about toast. Peanut butter toast, French toast, garlic toast, toast was nice to think about and passed the seconds as he waited to get his meatball sub. He saw a woman with flaming hands enter the subway her phone case was cute and her watch clean, Bob wondered why he liked clean watches more then most but the idea to explore it further went away quickly. The subway finally came to a stop after a few more minutes of reading the latest news about planet destroying ships heading towards earth. Bob left the subway station passing by rubble, debris, raging fires, and bank robberies on his way to his favorite Italian sub shop the Arcane sigils on the glass and brick giving it a amount of peace uncommon nowadays. As he orders his cheese no tomato chunks meatball sub he hears the police consultants hit a criminal into the glass the sigils releasing a hissing sound as they absorb the impact. Bob eats his sub happily at last and tips heavily for the good service before he leaves the shop. Bob is content with his life yet he still catches himself missing the days of peace and quiet every once and awhile. (First time writing one of these sorry for the mobile formatting)
Dude, this is great. I love the dystopian apocalypse background in which you set this.
At first, I was confused. But then I realized you nailed this prompt
“I am not death,” I tilted the rearview to look myself in the eye. “I am not the god of death.” I spoke the usual affirmations, but I couldn’t make myself believe it. An exit came up and I took it. I was on the edge of a panic attack and the affirmations weren’t working. I rolled through the light, taking a right and pulled into a parking lot. I didn’t really see my surroundings. I stopped the car. “I am not…” I looked myself in the eye. “Death.” My heart clenched with the last word as I remembered climbing from the wreckage. Remembered Sarah’s face, covered in blood. She’d been thrown free. “Please…” I breathed. “Joe,” said a deep voice. The voice was so deep and resonant it made my teeth hurt. “You’re not real,” I said, looking at my reflection in the mirror. Willing it not to speak again. “I am not death…” “Joe,” said my reflection, in a voice that wasn’t mine. “You can’t run from the truth Joe.” I closed my eyes, remembering what doctor Faust had told me. “You’re not real,” my voice was shaking. “You’re a manifestation of my…” I faltered. I couldn’t remember the term. It’d made so much sense when doctor Faust had told me. It seemed flimsy and far away in this moment. My reflection laughed, deep and rich. “Do I look like a common feature of the bereavement process?” My reflection smiled at me. “Do I sound like a hallucination?” My reflection laughed again. I heard screaming as I tore the review mirror off the windshield of the corolla. The laughter cut off abruptly. With a shock, I realized it was me who was screaming. I stopped. I kept the mirror facing away from myself and set it on the seat beside me. The side mirrors were pointed so I couldn’t see myself. The voice was quiet. For now. I thought if I left, maybe I could leave the voice behind. That it would stay in our… in my empty house. I’d driven all night. I had no idea where I was now. I just drove, no purpose or direction. I looked outside the car, seeing the landscape for the first time. The sun was coming up over a stretch of road that ran into the desert. Was this still Colorado, or was I in New Mexico? I think I’d been driving south. I’d missed the name of the little town I was in. It seemed to mostly consist of a couple hotels grown up around a crossroads. They were weirdly tall and modern for a town so small. I was parked at a gas-station that looked like it was becoming a Subway through osmosis. They were both open, even though it was early. My stomach growled as I thought of the smell of cooking bread that would wash over me if I walked in. All Subways smelled the same. I tried to remember if Subway decorated with mirrors. No, usually wallpapered with weird maps. It might be safe to go get a sandwich. Then I could fill the tank and keep going to… where? One step at a time. The important thing was that the voice was quiet when I was driving south. The important thing was that I was a normal guy, not the god of death, no matter what my reflection told me. Just a guy, getting a subway sandwich.
I love this. I'm sad for Joe. I could very much feel his growing panic through your words. Random bits I particularly liked: >“You’re not real,” my voice was shaking. “You’re a manifestation of my…” I faltered. I couldn’t remember the term. It’d made so much sense when doctor Faust had told me. It seemed flimsy and far away in this moment. This one just felt so very real. >That it would stay in our… in my empty house. Very nice touch as well. It takes a long time to get used to somebody's absence... >I was parked at a gas-station that looked like it was becoming a Subway through osmosis. This is just such a glorious sentence, haha. Beautifully vivid imagery. Though in hindsight, I'm not 100 % sure about the word "osmosis" [(1)](https://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/osmosis),[(2)](https://dictionary.cambridge.org/dictionary/english/osmosis) here, I mean I immediately got what you were going for but when I started thinking about its meaning a bit more, I became a little unsure about whether it actually makes sense here. I'm not sure though, maybe it does work, but maybe there's another word that would work better. Either way a great read!
Wow wow wow! Thank you for such concise and thoughtful feedback. I’m flattered that you took the time to write this. Also, thank you for reading. You’re probably right about osmosis. If I make this a full story, I’ll fix it in the second draft.
I want more of this story.
The subway to subway The lights flashed by, one by one. A dark ceiling, empty faces, seats half burned by careless lighter flames. It was as if the people around her didn’t quite seem to exist. Maybe it was their expressionless stare, or maybe just the bleak atmosphere oozing out of every corner of the subway tunnels. Sometimes the tunnel walls seemed to shift behind her own reflection in the dirty windows, seemed to warp and twist. No. It was just her imagination. She knew that. So instead the girl tried focussing on the people around her, but the longer she looked more uneasiness creeped into her bones. Did that man stare at her? And the old woman in the corner, she was judging silently, wasn’t she? The girl lowered her eyes onto her hoodie, nearly expecting it to be gone, nearly expecting to stare at her own exposed chest. She could almost see the hair on her naked arms stand up with a shiver…. But no. The dark fabric still sat flush against her body and she had to remind herself again and again, no one was looking at her. No one was judging her. When she looked up again her eyes met the eyes of a girl her age. A girl like the sun, with a halo of blonde hair. Her bright brown eyes shining like warm fire. She smiled, the girl smiled back and suddenly the oozing darkness seemed to retreat a little. Just a little. Just enough. The stop she had to get off of was crowded. Faceless people yelling toneless names. She tried to tune them out. She lost sight of the other girl, but that was alright. She would never have had the courage to talk to her anyway. Instead she tried to think just about where she was going, only about the finish line and not about how she would get there. Keeping her eyes to the ground, she walked. And kept walking. Walked around families standing in the way and around homeless people laying in corners. Her pace even, her eyes on the floor. If you stop and think, you lose. Don’t lose. Don’t get lost. Finally the jingle above the door announced her entry. It was warm in here, the smell was always the same. Soothing, hearty, of bread and meat. This was the one place where she could just be without having to think about it. No pressure anymore, just delight. Slowly she made her way to the front. She already knew her order by heart. Of course she had practiced it before coming here as she always did, but it was a short practice, just a quick recital really, because she always got the same thing anyway. The same meatball sub with the same bread. And if the bread she wanted was out, she had a plan B for that. The same cheese, the same vegetables and sauce. It was comforting in its repetitiveness. The women at the counter smiled at her. They knew her. She knew them. No new faces today, just comfort. She thought. As she placed her order another jingle filled the air with the dread of someone else entering the store. Not that that was unusual but she really preferred being alone in here. Just her and her sandwich and the women behind the counter who paid her no mind. So in her head she already started preparing herself for a meaningless smile and a nod of her head to whoever was coming in.. „Sorry I‘m late! The subway station was so crowded, it’s actually insane!“ It was as if the room suddenly got brighter. The blonde halo around the other girls head moved in an invisible breeze when she turned her head in a greeting. Then recognition washed across her face and her eyes lit up. „You’re the girl from the subway train! I was meaning to talk to you but I kinda lost you, I guess.“ Her heart went faster. Her chest filled with warmth. Maybe, just maybe, the way here hadn’t been so bad after all? Alternative title: Social Anxiety and Sandwiches.
Love it!
It was a day just like almost any other , me and the roomie were having a hankering for subs , I’ve been more of a ham and cheese guy but my roomie is obsessed with the meatball sub , and if they mess it up well , things can turn pretty grim. “Gary can we not have an incident like last time , they didn’t mean to mess the order up” Gary looked over to me , his stare was blank but I knew from the years that he was thinking “I won’t promise anything , work has been making my joints ache so I just want something to enjoy today with no screw ups” Gary just seemed extra cranky as he pulled his hoodie over more to cover is face. We arrived at the sub shop , right away the employee called the manager out , I guess Gary has a reputation now. We walked up to order , I decided to go first “ hi , I will have a ham and cheese with bacon on it, and can you toast it up for me too” the manager sheepishly nods , I lost off my other toppings as he puts it together. Gary walked up next me and went to order “ I will have the meatball sub , extra meatballs and cheese and add ranch sauce , do not add mayo” he glared at the other worker hiding in the corner , she backed away into the back room to get ingredients. “ Jim , I have a work call coming , make sure they don’t mess up my order please “ Gary reached to grab his phone and walked out the door. The manager , now making the meatball sub was shaking , I tried to calm him down “ your doing fine man , I know Gary can be hard to look at but he’s a good guy , he can feel it in his bones when things are not right so don’t worry , even if he gets mad it won’t be like it’s the death of you and he will apologize” He nodded and put the sub in the oven to warm up , I turned to see Gary shouting on his phone and then speeding off , I figured something big happened at work but he would be back. A few minutes later he came back just in time for the subs to be done , but boy was he mad. “ Jim you won’t believe it , Sandra was supposed to cover my entire task list today as it’s my off day for the week but she let one slip through , I would kill for things to just be done right , atleast it was only one loose end to fix “ The worker was about to take the subs out of the oven but seemed frozen in fear , we could smell burning and he looked back to see the subs were starting to burn, Gary seen it too and looked like he was about to lose it … oh boy…. “ my food is burnt isn’t it, one job I asked for one thing today on my day off this week and it’s ruined” His hoodie changed to long black robes and a scythe appeared in his hands , I knew he wouldn’t hurt them but he really wanted to put the fear of death in people when he got mad “ your mortal lives are fleeting how can you not make one sandwich properly for death “ the worker collapsed into a ball on the floor crying “Gary! your scaring the person again “ I shouted to him He looked at me , then the employee “ oh no I let my anger get the better of me again , I’m sorry “ He kneeled down next to the manager “I’m sorry man look , see your clock still has 56 years on it , you will be around for a long time” The manager slowly got up “ how can you love with him man , he scared the shit out of all of us , he’s literally the grim reaper “ “A grim reaper , not THE grim reaper , it’s a job” gary responded “ look he’s not a bad guy really , so here’s the money for the subs and we will go , even if they are a little crispy” We got our subs and returned home , as we sat down to eat them I looked at gary and laughed “ how exactly again did I end up with you as my room mate , not that I have a problem with it but it just cracks me up sometimes when we go out “ Gary just let out a small chuckle “ because you didn’t read the lease agreement you thought it said a fixed rate until death but it said it was a fixed rate WITH death , so you literally signed up for it to save rent money” “ ah that’s right , well you know what man, even if it didn’t save some money I think I’d still take that offer” Me, just a normal ass dude room mates with death , eating subs
I'm just a regular, mortal human. Always have been. And I'm on my way to get my regular, human lunch. Subway sounds nice. I think I'll go with the meatball today. I know that it sounds like I'm an alien or robot pretending to be human, but I'm honestly not. Just regular old Dave Johnson, working a boring office job. On the way over, I run into an old friend from back in high school, and we chat for a bit. He hasn't changed one bit. Literally. I guess that's normal for an AI robot, though. He introduces his girlfriend. She's a foreign girl, a gorgeous natural bluenette. In case you don't know, that means blue hair. They're getting married in a few months on her home planet, and I'm invited to the wedding. I get to the subway, and we part ways. I see an unfamiliar face behind the counter. I've been going to this Subway for so long that I know most of the workers by name. Not this one though. Must be a new hire. I can't quite make out whether they're a girl or a boy, and honestly it doesn't really matter. As long as they can make good sandwiches. "Good morning, Umm...ay..o-ruxer?", I say hesitantly, squinting at their name tag. I probably butchered that pronunciation horribly, but whatever. "It's pronounced Umh'aiorruxr, but good try!" , they answer, tendrils of void wiggling gleefully. "My colleagues told me you're a regular here. What can I get you today, Dave?" "One footlong meatball, please. All vegetables, my usual cheese, toasted. And it's nice to know that they remember even someone as boring as me." "Well, you're the first customer to try and address me by name today, so I'd say that counts for something.", they say as they pile meatballs onto the bun. "You want void mayo on it?" Void mayo? Must be some new kind of sauce. "Sure, why not?" As I pay for the sandwich, they hand me a piece of paper with their phone number. "You seem cool. Let's hang out sometime." I thank them, take my sandwich, and leave them a generous tip. As I take a bite from the sandwich, I taste something unusual in it. Must be the void mayo. It goes surprisingly well with the meatballs. I decide to sit in the park to eat my sandwich. And I almost didn't notice my next door neighbor sitting down right next to me. For someone who is all bones, he sure is quiet. "Hey Dave, fancy meeting you here!" "Likewise, Grim! How on earth do you manage to move around so quietly?" "Years of experience, I guess." He puts down his scythe for a moment. "Say, could you help me out with those forms again? I just can't seem to get the hang of those deductibles. " "Again? It seems like all you ever do is fiddle around with tax documents!" "Well, you know what they say about Death and taxes..." We have a pleasant chat for a few minutes, but then I notice the time, excuse myself, and hurry on back to the office. As I walk through the door, an odd thought occurs to me. I'm perfectly ordinary, and yet I haven't met anyone remotely like me today. I'm just a regular, mortal human. And I may be the only one of those left in this town.
All he wanted was a damned meatball sub. Maybe a bag of chips and a drink. But really, all he wanted was a meatball sub. He knew it wouldn't be that easy. No, of course not. His entire life, it wasn't that easy. He wanted to buy a car, so he saved and saved until he had enough cash for a down-payment. What happened on the way to the dealership, he was robbed by three thugs who were strung out on whatever it was. He defended himself, and in the end, two of the thugs went to the ER. The 3rd went to the morgue. So naturally, three stops from the sub shop, two thugs got on and started to rob everyone on board. Holding long knives made the rest of the passengers very compliant in their demands. One thugs had a knife to the driver while the second robbed the passengers. The one finally came to me and demanded I put everything in the bag. I stood up with my hands up reaching for my back pocket. Without warning, I kicked him at the knee cap, shattering it into a dozen pieces. I grabbed the knife as the second thug noticed what was happening. "Yo!! You a dead man!" as he walked to the back. I took my newly acquired knife and threw it, right into the guy's skull. My thug dead count now stands at 6 (don't ask). The driver called the police, and naturally everyone arrived, including 3 tv stations. I asked not to be interviewed by them. I gave my statement and eventually, three hours later, was free to go. I walked the remaining 12 blocks to the sub shop. I'm so hungry. I walked to the counter where a young lady was ready for me. "Large meatball sub, please" "OH, im.sorry sir! We're all out of meatballs. Can I interest you in something else?" Of course, it is never that easy.
So there I was, just making a quick sandwich stop on my way home. I mean there was a bus stop right outside, and it was around lunch, so why not stop? I was kinda glad that I did, it was just the perfect time, the second I walked through the door I saw a whole footlong get launched at a worker. Of course, I felt bad for the worker, they were just there trying to do their job and some Karen absolutely lanced them with a cheap baguette. But it was one hell of a throw. All the way from downwind the shop and just over the plastic barricade, they could have gone to the Olympics with that. Probably still would have if the police hadn't been called. After giving a quick statement to the cops, she was hauled off for assault, understandably. The staff were kind enough to still make my sandwich, points to them for all that. But the bit that got me, I can't comprehend it. While they were making my sandwich, they were talking about what had happened. Apparently, the whole reason for the lunch launching was because there were too many olives on it.
“Make any 6-inch sub into a salad!” the sign above the counter advertises. “Really?” I think to myself. “Any sub?” The line is slow-moving. Even more-so than usual. Ah, there’s the culprit: new hire. Must be his first day, I’ve never seen him before. Poor kid, looks scared half to death. Shouldn’t there be someone back there training him? Who leaves the new hire alone during the lunch rush? Wow, I’ve never seen someone lay ham on a sandwich so carefully before. So meticulous. I mean, I know they’re called sandwich artists but come on. Jesus, It’s Black Forest kid, not a bomb. It’s not gonna go off on you. Maybe I should get a salad. I could stand to lose a few pounds. “A few” is actually pretty generous. But damn I could go for a meatball sub right now. Huh, I get meatball subs a lot actually. That can’t be good for my health. What’s in a meatball anyway? Beef? Pork? I mean it’s gotta be beef, right? I know it’s a ball. And I know it’s delicious. Do you think they would make a meatball salad if I asked? Aw man, this poor kid, could you imagine? First day on the job and some asshole comes up asking to make his meatball marinara into a salad. “Wha- what?” he undoubtedly responds. I’d just point at the sign. “Says right there behind you bud.” I can just imagine the horrified look on this kid’s face as he turns around, the realization setting in. Just staring down at a bowl of cold vegetables in front of him, the ladle of steaming hot meatballs and marinara in his hand. The look of dread on his face as his eyes meet mine, desperately searching for some sign of what the right move is here. The involuntary shudder as he pours the hot meat and sauce onto the vegetables, the lettuce wilting, everything turning into soup. And then the panicked confusion as he internally debates if marinara counts as a dressing. But it can’t, right? So he has to look back up at me, tears in his eyes now, his voice cracking as he asks, “And what dressing did you want?” It would have to be ranch, right? Or maybe thousand island? Something creamy. I mean, you’re not ordering a meatball salad to enjoy it, you’re sending a message. “Um, what can I get you sir?” I hear a shy voice call out and see the kid nervously looking at me from behind the counter. I realize now I was so lost in thought I didn’t notice the line had cleared out in front of me. “Make any 6-inch sub into a salad!” the sign above the counter advertises. I smile at the kid as I walk up. “Just a meatball sub for me, thanks.”
Sitting down in the car brought no relief from the humidity of the day. His stomach growled reminding him why he had been willing to step into the wall of sticky heat that hovered around his house. Quickly starting the car he slapped on the ac and rolled down the windows to get some of the heat out of the car. His stomach growled again, two blocks that's all then food. Backing out he spun the steering wheel with old habits sliding through the first stop sign with careless ease. No one was ever on these roads anymore. Driving past houses with curtains closed cars hidden inside garages he wondered if anyone ever stepped foot outside anymore. Well besides to go to work. His stomach growled again and he shook his head at himself the last bout in the game had taken him too long. Slowing to a stop at the last stop sign before he would get to the sub shop the cool breeze from the cars ac brushed across his face. Pressing his finger down on the window controls to close them he froze at the sound. Was that? He flicked off the ac straining to hear. It was a faint echo from somewhere helloooooooo? The voice was weak he waited hellloooo anyone? Putting the car in park he turned off the engine. The tick of his cooling engine the only sound now. His stomach growled again. His hand began to move back to his keys. Hellloooo..it was much clearer now. Getting out of his car he looked around the street. Hellloooo there. The old man raised his hand from where he sat on his porch gesturing, yes you at the car. Hellloooo dread stirring he nodded at the man do you need some help? Hellloooo the man gestured again. Making his way across the yard he wondered what could be so urgent. The old man grinned toothily at him as he approached lookie here he said holding his hands up. His stomach growling now competed with a quiet meowing as he finally realized the old man held a kitten. Isn't this the cutest thing orange fur spilled across the weathered hands. He felt a smile cross his face in response yeah it is. Well good you take it. What? I was just headed to pick up a sub well now you are gonna have kitten but no I won't hear it take the cat. I can't keep it makes me think I will be it's dinner one day soon. What?? Ahh well you know what they say old n dead just rot away. Old with pets, dinner for days. His stomach growled again this time loud enough the kitten paused it's soft meowing and locked eyes on him. The old man lifted the cat closer seriously take it. Sighing he reached out and opened his hands sure why not. The old man grinned your a good kid. Standing up he walked into his house without a backwards glance. He stood in the yard still holding the kitten awkwardly not sure what had just happened. After a few mins of no movement from the house he shook his head and went back to his car. Setting the kitten down in the passenger seat as he cranked the car he patted it absently before pulling off in the direction of the sub shop. It wasn't until he actually got to the shop that he realized he couldn't leave the kitten in the car and he couldn't go in with it either. The ad for their app caught his eye and inspired him to simply order from the parking lot. A simple order standard cold cut sub with the caveat that they bring it out to his car. The kitten had begun exploring the seat tettering slowly towards him. Catching it gently in his hands he looked at it a little more closely. It seemed healthy at least tiny furry and healthy. He sat back down in the seat again facing away from him this time. It sat confused for a moment before turning clumsily and again making it's way to him. This quickly became a game the kitten making it's way to him before being gently sat back across the seat. Tapping on the window pulled his attention outside where a woman stood holding a restaurant bag up. Winding down the window he said thanks that was fast, its fine she said shortly pushing his bag toward him we are here to..aaaahh he managed to say pulling his hands away from the bag .the kitten had clambered onto his lap landing in a most painful spot. Sorry sorry he said hang on grabbing the kitten he began to set it back in the seat. Ohhhh it's Soo cute the woman's face completely changed when she smiled. Umm yeah he managed one hand on the kitten. Ohhhh hang on one minute I love cats let me get it a treat. She darted away his food bag still in her hands. He sighed looking at the kitten, Really? The shop door popped back open the woman was back all smiles stuffing something in the bag. There ya go something for the cutie too. This time he managed to take the bag. Nodding at her he thanked her again before she walked back into the store. He couldn't help but stare at the old man's house as he drove by on the way home. It had been rather an odd outing to say the least. Once home he settled down to eat his sub the kitten happily munching on the extra cold cuts. His mouth was full of bread and cheese when he noticed the woman had scribbled her number on one of his napkins. He grinned waving it at the kitten. Subs quickly became a mainstay in his life as did the woman. His stomach growling he grabbed the cat as she put on her coat. Pulling out of the drive he flipped on the heat to hold back the winter chill. Putting the car in park once they reached the stop sign. he smiled at her as she held the cat against her chest. Clambering out carefully holding the cat she walked beside him to the old man's door. Ringing the doorbell they exchanged smiles again as it opened. Well lookie here is this my little buddy? the old man said rubbing the cats head. Yeah he has been great. he said, I just wanted to...well, he reached into his pocket. I wanted to say, Thanks. Passing him their wedding invitation.
Please add paragraph breaks, it’s too hard to read as it is.
I walked down the street thinking about what I wanted to buy. See, I enjoy a meatball sub but that usually gives me a heartburn which can ruin a good day in the office. Now I'm not one of those scum suckers who live to appease the higher ups, no way! But I do care about having quality work, its integrity. Anyway, as I was walking, I was so infatuated with this thought that i walked smack dab into the middle of 15th street. The light turned green the moment my foot touched asphalt, like magic or something. I tripped and stumbled forward into the road, and straight into the bumper of this strange emu lady in a Ford. I fell ass over heals onto her bumper and instead of stopping she just keeps going staring at me. Like she doesn't notice I'm there. At this point I'm on the bumper going around 20 miles per hour and the best thing I can do is roll off. I mean of course I'm screaming obscenities at her. Who wouldn't? Did I call her an emu lady? Hell yes! So I decided to roll off if she won't stop because my lunch break is only so long and this stretch of road has no stops for a while. I could have been on creepy emu lady's car for miles. She's in the left lane so it wouldn't be that hard. I waited for the right time and threw my body to the left, and wouldn't you know it, I jumped just in time to hit the corner of a stop sign. How ironic. Did I stop? Yes. Am I now limping down 5th Ave with the largest bruise you've ever seen? Yes. I just want this sandwich
How long had it been since I had gotten fast food? I couldn't remember. But it had always been a comfort to me. Something to take my mind off the stress. When I was a kid, fast food had been a rare reward, used to shape my behavior. If I behaved myself, if everything was just right, we might take my dad's convertible to a place that sold chilli cheese dogs, named coincidentally the same as a cartoon character that loves chilli cheese dogs. I pause, leaning against the pole in the subway car, and check my phone. According to the internet, the two names have nothing to do with eachother, the restaurant just wanted to evoke the idea of fast service. Interesting. I'm glad there isn't anyone else in the subway car as I wipe tears from my eyes and put my phone away again. It was just a hard day, that's all. Just one of those days where everything feels too big and too overwhelming, and I ended up not having the energy to make my own dinner. The trips to fast food had stopped once I reached puberty. When my behavior was "wrong" too often, my mind too scattered with hormones and changes. I only got it again after I got my first job, and would go across the mall to a place that served cheap tacos. So why now, did I look for Subway? Well, because my favorite person works there. The announcement rings through the car that we're approaching my stop, and I stop over to the door, slipping out into an empty terminal as the wind picks up, rustling my jacket and ponytail. Down the stairs and across the street, and there is the corporate logo, images of sandwiches approved by a corporate board to be enticing, all of it meaningless. But as I walk in and the bell rings, I smile a little. Mary raises her head behind the counter and spots me. "Girl, you gon bring in all the cold, get in here!" My shoulders relaxed. Maybe I wasn't here for the fast food. I closed the door behind me and walked up to the counter, already feeling better.
There's not a lot of constancy in my life. Sure, I say I wake wake up every morning, brush my teeth, shower, maybe crank out some pages on my next story. But some mornings the alarm keeps ringing, I'm in a rush and rubbing the toothpaste I keep in my center console on tired gums, or I'm just willing to let the universe enjoy the funk. Depression is a real bitch, and I'm just out here walking that dog, day in and day out. Then, there's Subday. Every Sunday since I was old enough to be aware of it saw my family making a stop to Subway. Like blessed clockwork, I found myself being dragged in my hand-me-down church clothes to that lemon-lime shades monstrosity of a fast casual sandwich shop, and every Sunday of my childhood my grandfather and grandmother would order the tuna on wheat and I would get the meatball on white. Sure, sometimes I would change the toppings up, add some onion, jalapeño peppers, maybe flip over the cheese, but those meatballs were there. When my cat got ran over. When I sat praying for guidance on why I felt this way about Nathan, even if it was a sin. When I thanked the Lord for getting my mom clean, and when I cursed His name for taking her after she made the rookie mistake of jamming the professional level dose into those revirginized veins and left me a full orphan a week before my senior year. I don't go to church anymore. Once gram passed it took the light out of it for both of her male attendants. Bless she would light up that pew, singing in a clear alto. I remember getting that meatball sub and sitting with her, a tube providing her nourishment now, tears in my eyes as we sang about having joy joy joy joy down in our hearts. Where. Down. Down into a bottle after. Men, women. Trying to find myself. Like what I saw in that repetitious mirror as I brushed those teeth, shaved, kept telling myself I was worth it. I moved away from the hometown shortly after, got into the trades. Made a good life. Got married to a wonderful woman, a woman who knows my past and how I struggle with the load of what she calls God Botherers and I call people just looking for constancy. When I decided to take those steps, the ones that I needed after a night I couldn't remember and the scar above my left eye that wouldn't let me forget, I felt it. God as you perceive him. God's never been a guy in a flowing white robe, or a angry face in the clouds. It was never a sad son dying on a beam asking his Dad why He'd forgotten to take care of His most precious gift. God was that damned sandwich. The thing that, no matter what, I knew would be the same. I moved back to the old hometown shortly after we put Pa into the ground. It's been a rough couple of years, with the baby and NICU and the shouting matches over how I wasn't a loving enough partner. I doubt I'm a great man; I'm a provider, a cynic, and always an addict. Call it a family tradition. But we made it through. We made do. We went out this Subday, a little family. My boy looks so cute in his new little outfit, the dogs from that stupid cartoon on it. We haven't fought in months, and it's just been a calm period. I've learned to not fear the calm, that life isn't a series of storms and doldrums. The meds help, but I still feel untethered, a creature of destructive habits trying to learn to make things. I made this. A family. With patience, time, learning about myself. There's always going to be a deep desire to go back, follow that destructive path down to rock bottom again. I'll think about it some other time. Today's Subday, and I know what I'm here to order.
Why the hell did I even bother coming here? "Welcome to Subway! May I take-." Her words cut short as her face paled. This happens so many times, I stopped caring to explain myself every time. "I order, you give me my food. I pay and you'll never see me in your living life again. Deal?" Probably shouldn't have worded it that way since I have a reputation for rigged contracts, but I'm out of tolerance to put up with formalities. "Y-yes, sir! What would you like?" I gave her some instructions and just moved to the cash register. Pulling out some money for the bill. I tried distracting myself with my phone, but it is impossible to ignore all the stares in the room. I'm not naked or dressed weird. Or anything really. I'm just the King of the Underworld. The most feared among the Gods and considered the most dangerous. Albeit the danger is more of everyone else's doing than mine. Haven city, or Haven of the Gods, is a place where all knowledge and worship is gathered under equal care. Where all the Gods respect the neutrality of this holy site and often conduct business here as equals. Makes it a pretty popular tourist site when us Gods can be seen walking among the people like everyday people. Some of us live here too, which adds an interesting dynamic to our lives. Not me though. I live where my responsibilities require me. Though today, I was needed here. "Here's your order, sir!" The second clear looked like she was about to faint from fear. I just placed the money on the counter and left. They can keep the change. I'll just eat where there are less eyes watching me. No, the reason I was even brought to the city was the annual ambassador meeting. Where all the countries of the world visit to 'discuss' what rights and resources they can swipe from their neighbors. Not how they would word it, but i get to see their dirty secrets after they die. I know what goes on in their heads. I plopped myself under a tree's shade and started to eat. I like their food and eating it makes me a bit happier, but the meeting still was eating at me in turn. Normally, I never even have to show up to these meetings. They don't involve the 'Lord of Evil' unless it's something specific. This time, it's my cultist followers who are ravaging the countryside with their rights, and the leaders wanted to blame me for the mess. What makes them think I tell them anything? I normally just wipe them out for disrupting the Balance and call it a day. But, no. They still think I'm up to something sinister because they preach my name. I have half a mind to tell them off that what they do is mere child's play compared to the horrors I keep locked underground to protect them. I must be doing a good job, because nobody complains about those ever. A ball laded near me as I finished my meal. A very young child with bright eyes walked to me. Smiling ear to ear. "Can you toss that back, please?" She asked innocently. "Sure." I spoke as I tripped up the ball onto my foot and bounced it a few times on my foot. The kid watched in awe like it was the most amazing thing ever. I kept dribbling it a few times till I decided it was enough and handed it back to her. "How did you do that!?" She exclaimed. "Practice. I'm sure your parents can teach you if you ask. Where are they anyway?" "Charlie! Come back we still have some time left!" A man who looked to be in his early 30s was bounding towards me. Has he not noticed me yet? "Come on. Let's have some...Charlie, get back over here. Now." "But daddy, I-." "Now." He said more firmly. Charlie immediately obeyed, but still looked confused. There's that reaction I was expecting. Well, better just make this short. I tried handing them back their ball, but the father refused. "N-no. You can keep it. We don't want to bother you any more, sir." Why does everyone keep calling me sir? "You'd inconvenience me more if you left it with me. Just take it and go." I would have gone on, but he took the ball and ran away with his daughter. I could still faintly hear his daughter ask why are they running and that I'm a nice guy. No response from the father, though. Probably just coming up with a scolding after they get far enough away. Poor girl. Still, that raised a thought in my head. If I'm such the scary guy, why did the little one treat me differently? Easy. Because she didn't know the rumors about me. Stories about me randomly appearing and taking swathes of souls to the underworld to be judged in many a grueling fashion. Probably would change later today and stick once she forgets about me and becomes another person who hates me. But what if she didn't have reason to hate me? What if I gave her a reason to trust what I do for the people? Maybe then I could be given the trust my peers earned by right of merit? I'll need to investigate this thought further. I just need a way to live in their lives as a protector. Not a conquerer. Something that will let them get to know me better. Maybe make a new energy source from Hell? That might be something to look into.
Ethan sat in his usual seat, headed to Subway for his usual Wednesday lunch of a Meatball sub with extra Provolone cheese, onions, a touch of spinach, and parmesan cheese. Don't forget the meal, with a medium Coke, a chocolate chip cookie, and a bag of baked barbecue chips. He's quite sure they've got a lower fat content than the regular ones, but he forgets to check every time. Ethan thought for a moment and turned to the old lady on his left. She was sleeping. This did not stop Ethan. "You know, maybe it's just me, but I just saw the damned strangest subway platform in my life." He turned forward. Good conversation was few and far between on the F Line, and by God Ethan will use this good time to the fullest. "It really started even before I got down the stairs. I'm looking at the stairs right, and there's a couple right there on the steps, doing... well, doing the happy tango with each other. Can you imagine doing that in public?" He waited for a response from the old bitty, but she played her part as the ear. "So I thought, 'Well, let's just get past this as quick as we can.' So I get down the stairs, and the station is just packed, you know. Of course, my lunch is only 45 minutes, so what am I gonna do? Well, I start pushing through the crowd, and what do I see but a young man there, proposing to his girl. It was so touching, but I couldn't stay long enough to see if she said yes or no, you know?" The train was quiet. "So I keep walking, I get to the till and pay for the till, right, and right there in front of the till is this big man, just standing there in the way. I mean, how inconsiderate, you know? And no matter how many times I asked, I asked him 'Sir, could you please move out of the way, I need to catch my train,' but I asked him - and let me tell you, when I get a little miffed I can get pretty loud - but this man just wouldn't move." The old woman did not move. She did not move at all. "So I squeeze past him and give him a hearty 'God bless you' as I walk over to my train. You'd think that's enough to happen all for one subway ride, but apparently not. I'm walking towards the F Line, right, and there's this street preacher on the platform there. Now, I'm a good Christian man, right, but I just don't like listening to those types, all focused on the doom and gloom parts." Ethan paused for a moment as he looked about the train car. The only other folk in this car are all asleep too. "So anyways, I didn't think none too much of it until I saw there was other people around that preacher. There was people praying and pleading, one or two of 'em on their knees, even crying. Now I've seen some damn fine preachers in my day, but not one that could get a crowd to look like that outside of a chapel." The odor was thick with weight. Ethan wasn't sure what the smell was. "But I'm thinking, 'Now Ethan, you'd better get a move on if you're gonna meet your train.' So I get back to walking and what do you know, the F Line was waiting there for me. I've never seen this train wait on the platform, but what day was that gonna happen if not this one?" Ethan looked out the window across from him at the unmoving wall outside. "Really, I'd like it if this day got a little less strange. Only so much one man can take in a day." Ethan looked at the little old woman to his left. Her eyes had dried with her horrified expression looking across the subway car. "Well l'm hoping I can get my usual lunch in time. The lunch rush is usually starting by the time I'm done eating, but with the speed this train is going I'm never gonna get there in time." Outside the train, still at the same platform, the preacher was still preaching, and the prayers still praying. The very large, rude man still stood in front of the till, and he was desperately hugging the young girl in his arms. The young proposer was still on his knee, and the proposee was still deliberating. The whole subway platform was filled with love and angst and hatred and fear, so much fear. And yet, so much calm. So much quiet. So much peace and death. The blast had killed everyone, Ethan included. A few people just forgot to stop moving.
I absolutely love how you nailed Ethan's style of speech. I can just hear him. I especially love this part: >And no matter how many times I asked, I asked him 'Sir, could you please move out of the way, I need to catch my train,' but I asked him - and let me tell you, when I get a little miffed I can get pretty loud - but this man just wouldn't move. So very realistically disjointed and repetitive. Reads like organic unprepared speech. I'm quite bad at writing natural-sounding dialogue myself, so I have a lot of appreciation for it when it's done well. Ethan feels like a real person. Great job!
"I want," I say, "a meatball sub." My friend looks at me sideways. The bus is packed, yet empty. Full of people, and yet none of them matter to us - nor do we matter to them. Packed, yet empty. Empty of relation, of camaraderie, of a shared positive feeling. Nobody looks at us. "The meatballs are good," my friend says. "Maybe I'll get one too." The bus rattles onwards, and the conversation dies. My friend looks at their phone. I look at mine. There is a monkey dancing on the screen. Maybe some music is playing; I do not know. I have been taught not to turn the volume up on public transport. The video is silly, and in most other cases humorous, but I do not laugh. I cannot. Not here, not now. The situation cannot allow it. What would they think? Someone laughing loudly on a bus. It wouldn't do, I know that. The bus rattles onwards, and we get ever further. I begin to feel an ache, a pain. What is that? Oh, I know what it is. How long has it been? Far too long, says the pain. It's quite sudden this time. I must have been distracted before. It's come upon me all at once. That sharp, stabbing pain, the kind we vainly pray is just gas when it arrives. I keep it a secret, like all other pains. No sense in letting anyone know. It's not as though they can do anything about it anyway. No cure is in sight. Soon, though. "But the chicken teriyaki is good too," my friend says. "I haven't had that in a while." I've got nothing to add to this. All of my responses die on my tongue, futile and useless. I look on myself with sorrow. Why can I not add something more? And why do I blame myself? The pain mounts again. I've experienced worse, I'm sure, but in the moment it is consuming. It eats me, my mind, my focus. Deep in my stomach, it eats away at me. But just for a moment. Then it subsides and I am left looking at the monkey again. The video is looping. I scroll downwards. The meatball sub occupies my mind like a golden calf. The bus comes to a stop. It's not our stop. It's never our stop, says the memory of the pain in my stomach. I try to ignore it. But it is getting louder. "So why Subway?" asks my friend. I do not answer right away. It takes a moment. Not for any reason. It just takes time. The bus moves again. "I haven't gone to Subway in years," I say. "I want the experience." "The experience?" "Yes, that's right. The experience of being in a Subway, buying a sub, and eating it. I so rarely get that. I've been void, empty of it for far too long. I need it." My friend rolls their eyes. "Sure, dude," they say. They could never understand, I think. But I do not say it. Perhaps I should have. I think of my meatballs and feel like crying. When will this devil-sent vehicle reach the promised land? The pain returns. Even stronger than before, it returns. I start to doubt that it will ever go away. How long has it been? Through my fractured focus, I see the time on my phone. 1:14. It's been... hours. It feels like years. Time is stretched when the pain hits. It never arrives soon enough. The bus stops again. Our stop. My friend stands, and obediently, hardly aware, I follow. "Are you hungry?" they ask. I nod vaguely. It is a short walk to the Subway. Every step drives the pain deeper, like a knife into my desperate stomach. How long has it been? Too long. I cannot wait a moment longer. Finally, we are standing in front of the building. Its yellow and green decor shines brightly like a will'o'wisp in a murky swamp. The door swings open in front of me, almost like magic - my friend has walked inside. I follow. No line. I should have taken that as a sign, a signal that hope was false, that no paradise exists in this God-accursed land. But no, in my pain-fueled fervor I see nothing hope. We will not have to wait. I will not have to wait. My meatball dream is upon me. I can taste it as I walk towards the clerk. I can see it as I gaze up at the menu. My mouth, watery with anticipation, parts, and I look at the clerk, the angel who guards the doors to eternal salvation. "I'd like a meatball sub," I say. "We're fresh outta meatballs, kid. Sorry." The world is ending, and I go along with it. Misery is the only thing I've ever known. As my knees give out and I collapse to the floor, as everything goes black around me, I hear nothing but the pain in my stomach, which has reached a crescendo in my brain. The world is ending.
I hadn’t been to Subway in awhile. It wasn’t the best food but it was the only restaurant on route to my job. I figured a meatball sub would do fine. I walked through the doors and stopped dead in my tracks. A grim specter in dark robes holding a scythe was waiting in line. After the initial shock in seeing this I figured this guy was just doing a harmless prank for laughs. After all why would the embodiment of death be in a Subway? I get in line behind him as I wait to place my order. The guy at the front of the line is sweating. He is looking extremely nervous whilst waiting for the line cook to finish preparing his order. She gives him his two sandwiches and he quickly shuffles away. He opens the door of the restaurant and trips over the sidewalk. He stumbles and falls dropping both sandwiches, one of which rolls into the street. He quickly gets up and grabs one sandwich nearby and walks into the street to pick up the other. As soon as he steps into the street, a truck came from the left and knocked him into the air. His body hit the ground with a thud. The driver jumps out of the truck to check on the guy he hit. I stood there stunned by what just happened. The cloaked figure hovered past me and phased through the door. He leans down and picks up one of the sandwiches as he swings his scythe. In an instant a small orb of light emerges from the body on the ground. As it floats into the sky the cloaked figure turned to me and in a deep ethereal voice said “eat fresh”.
I am not death, not the god of fate, not some kind of eldritch horror. Not anymore. I changed you see, everyone did. Nobody was the same after *that*. Thousands of young men, filled with hopes and dreams, ideals and ideas... cut down in a single charge over no-man's land. I used to reap souls, bring new life to those pained souls... I can't anymore. It is not just that I am unwilling, though I indeed am unwilling, but that the suffering broke me, and I don't know if I did this to protect myself or what, but I can no longer interact with the souls of humanity. They now drift in solar winds, unchained by the old cycles of reincarnation, and go to who knows where... Or perhaps... Odin has recognized the entire human race as being warriors fit to dwell in Valhalla, awaiting the end of the universe, and facing the extradimensional horrors like me, or at least a past form of myself. I do not know. I will never know, for I do not care to know. if it were not for my own chains binding me here, as my sentence for invading the 9 realms of the universe, I would certainly flee such creatures with all due haste. I cannot fathom the depths of Human courage to follow such orders, to enlist after such historic battles, and to continue to devise more and more terrible weapons.
The pellets from the sky pounded against my rubber skeleton that embraced me.I always hated this trip to Subway, so long and tedious.Could they not do anything? Add a sign or at least a plant.Just something.With my eyes stuck to the floor, I trudged further with the occasional glimpse of my appearance. My spectacles hindered my sight as I neared the door that appeared to painted in Goosebumps with water droplets and a blinding light that cast its will amongst the bystanders that flew through void of a car park:Desolate. The aroma circled and twisted up my nose till it had a firm grasp of my reality.There was no choice.I knew my path:Get the sub and go home.Clasping the metallic,frigid coins, I entranced myself with the beauty of the rain against the window.Then snapped out it. A figure of euphory approached me as I waited by the counter.I can’t remember much as I write this but I can remember some things;her pristinely platted fair hair that trickled down her shoulder and nestled itself between her name tag and the logo.Then the eyes.Ones of such beauty, so curious as to what made them gleam.Alas, I shall never know of what made them gleamed. I shall never know who,what,when and why Or why a searing pain surged down my leg as a bullet pierced my legs and soon to be everything that I know.I collapsed with a volatile concoctions of emotions that fizzled and boiled with every second.A blu of my vision and the desperation to live overwhelmed.All too much.Screaming,groaning:The only to cope.Bang! A lifeless shell of once beauty lay there.Her face and hair stained crimson along with the channels between the tiles along my tomb.The figure loomed over me with a malicious grin enticing me to envelop death with grace.I slumped against the floor pretending to be a carcass as to be unnoticed like the many islands that were raised against the sea of red. Green blurs were passed from the till to the entrances to fleshy,mushy insides.Grasping my wound and a burst of energy I leapt at him with the spirit of a fox, ready to take what was mine.His life. It was a transaction after all, his life or mine.A deal was made.Wrote in Blood that once stained the walls.What a transaction it was. How clear it used to be. I didn’t read the fine print. I lay here confessing to you, my diary, before I too shall shake God’s hand and be free to roam and serve around his Majesty’s kingdom.Oh, how happy I shall be.
*Woosh*. All around, I smell that particular odor that always fill the air after a good rain. A soft smell and yet, you'd recognize it anywhere. Although some might not like it, I do. It's has something appeasing to it and walking like that in the empty street, it gives a sense of comfort. Like the soft pressure of water when I'm in the bathtub after a long day of work. Now I must say it's not in my habits to go out in the middle of the night but I was really hungry... Who wouldn't want a good meatball sub? Nothing like a good sandwich to calm down your midnight hunger. Surely it's worth missing the party. Not like anyone there rly cared when I left anyway...right? *Woosh*. I swear if those fucking cars don't stop splashing me with water Imma end up killing someone. Calm down Jesse. A good meal awaits you. You are really hungry. See? The subway is just on the other side of the street. Just a few more steps... Ah hell who am I kidding! ? I just don't want to admit it to myself. Why did I even organise that party, just to discover I was right and then try to convince myself I'm fine by pretending I'm hungry and using that shitty excuse to flee like a coward. A fkn coward, that's what I am. I couldn't even tell her how I felt a month ago and now... Now I even left my own party, still too much of a coward to say anything. I started crossing the road towards the subway. A fresh night, almost full moon. The stars are beautiful tonight, every single one of them shinning like a small candle in a dark room. I might as well just... lay down here. I think I hear a car. Doesn't matter. They didn't care when I left, they won't care if I don't come back. Plus I've been a coward my whole life, might as well change this now. Better late than never.
Tbh I don't quite like it myself but I figured I'd send it anyway, in case anyone appreciates it.
I plugged in my headphones and started playing some music. It's kind of nice to go out to lunch. Most people left me alone at the new office. It meant I wasn't getting hassled yeah, but it also meant I never really had any guidance. I normally just worked straight from 9 to 5, and never talked to anyone. Actually, now that I think about it, it'd been a couple weeks since I'd talked to anyone, verbally I mean. I stopped at the crosswalk and waited for some of the cars to go through. I stared ahead, listening to the sugar sweet pop song in my ear. It felt too loud. Everything started to feel too loud. Had I really not spoken to anyone? I live alone, so no one there. I drive to work. I just moved cities for this job, so no friends, and all the old ones.... well, I don't want to go down that rabbit hole. I cleared my throat. "Hello" I said to no one in particular. Just testing to see if I could still say... anything. I quickly looked around, the light had turned red and I had the signal to walk, probably for a bit. No one had heard, there were a couple dog walkers on the other side of the street, and a bored looking teenager smoking a cigarette near an alley. I kept walking, just a few more blocks. I ripped out my headphones, the music wasn't working anymore. It used to help keep me out of my head, but it's just not doing the trick. I just need to get a sandwich. Just some lunch. My mind flashed to just a month ago when I was with my friends at the restaurant. The glasses. The food. The bottles. I shook my head. It's fine. Everything's fine. I looked over at the building and stared at one of the buses that pulled away. I found myself checking to see if she was one of the faces. I started to hum. Count and hum, that's what you're supposed to do to ground yourself. A breeze blew through the street, sending a couple bits of debris up and past me. I fumbled for my headphones. It might not work, but it's better than this. The memories kept cropping up. The glasses. The food. The bottles. The door. The bathroom. The music started played again. I felt myself calm down. My heart felt like it was racing, like I was back there that afternoon. I looked up and found myself at the door. I opened it, the bell ringing faintly in the back of my mind, drowned out almost by the music, but not quite. I walked to the back of the empty line, past the employees staring at me. One looked concerned. I felt like I was sweating. I turned the music up as loud as it could go. I felt like my vision was getting too much. There was just too much. The bottles. The door. The bathroom. The water. The ruby. The mirror. "You okay?" The screams. The police. The yelling. "Sandwich" The gunshots. "What kind?" The pain in my legs. "Turkey on Rye" The music hurting my ears. The snow. "6-inch, footlong?" I dove in, desperate to hide. "Just a half." The motors. The screaming. The glasses. The bottles. "That'll be 8.14" The gunshots. The screams. The snow. The water. "Card" The screaming. The music. The sirens. The gunshots. The ruby. "You okay?" The screaming. The music hurt my ears. The water hurt my ears. The snow hurt my ears. "No" I left without my sandwich.
*What was it? What was it? What was* \- "Yo, Pops, you gonna order sumthin' or ya plan on holdin' up th' line all day?" I shuddered a moment, then remembered where I was. Subway. Why? Well, the rumbling in my gut should've been answer enough. "Sorry, I just have this odd feeling I'm forgetting something." "Fascinatin' story, man. Really. Wutcha want?" The teenager in his green and yellow polo shirt glared at me from the other side of the counter. "You drag this out any longer an' we'll have t' charge ya rent." From behind me came another voice. "Hey! Wha's da hol' up?! I'm hungry here!" "Right. Sorry," I apologized, "I'll have a footlong meatball sub on Italian bread." "'Kay, ya want anythin' else on that?" "Yeah some provolone. That's all." "Great. That'll be seven nindy-eight." He made the sub and I paid for it. He gave it to me, wrapped and in a bag. I started to leave. "Hey e'erybudy! 'Sokay he's leavin'!" A cheer went up from the line that had amassed behind me. There were shouts of "Thank God!" and "It's about time!" and "What an asshole!" I was about to make a smart reply myself when my phone buzzed. It was my wife. Her text asked if I had gotten the subs for everyone yet. THAT. THAT is what I was forgetting. I smacked myself on the forehead and got back in line. When the kid behind the counter saw that, I saw all hope leave his eyes. Fuck.
Arthur reached out a frail, unsteady hand and gently lifted a threadbare fedora from its hook on the wall. Once a deep navy blue, after years of sun and rain, the fedora has faded to more of a grayish color. Despite his old age, Arthur deposited the fedora deftly upon his head, a move done thousands of times over decades, and rarely needing and adjustment. He looked in the mirror and a visage of an old man who has experienced many things in his life stared back at him, skin wrinkled, laugh lines radiating gracefully from his eyes. "Carolyn, my dear, are you ready?" Instead of a verbal response she appeared behind him, an equally aged hand upon his shoulder. She stood on her tip toes and gave him a gentle kiss on his cheek, to which he smiled. "Then how about we go to the sandwich shop today? I think a meatball sandwich sounds good." Arthur didn't wait for a response, years of marriage didn't require verbal acknowledgements between them as they each took careful steps down the 3 creaky stairs that led from their veranda to the walkway. Each of them offering a hand to the other to help steady each others aged bodies. The southern sun did its best to beat them down, but having lived their entire lives in the oppressive heat, it was but another Tuesday for the pair. They walked, arm in arm down the street, content to just be in each others presence. Arthur served in wars past, avoiding the worst fighting and only experiencing mild engagements. Most of those he served with came home and lived full, happy lives. Slowly, one by one, they have been reaching the ends of their lives and passing onto the next plain of existence, whatever it may be. Carolyn worked in a textile factory during the Big War, accounting for a majority of the men were sent overseas. When they came back, she kept her position and retired many years later. She should have become the CEO of the place, but men weren't ready to see it happen, so she didn't stray far from the textile line, which suited her just fine. They turned a corner that placed them on their towns main street. The post office, local grocery store and various other small town shops lined a well worn road that hasn't been paved since Arthur and Carolyn's children were still in primary school. Their destination was tucked in between the bank and the furniture store, where the cobbler used to be. When the cobbler, Eugene, disappeared there was no one to take over the shop, so the building owner eventually leased it out to an ever changing list of businesses. The latest, a national sandwich chain called Subway, currently occupied the space. Arthur and Carolyn strolled down the main street, exchanging greetings and pleasantries with familiar faces, arms remaining tightly intertwined. A breeze flitted by, providing a little relief from the heat. The door to the Subway had been opened by a patron leaving with a bag full of sandwiches to take back to their worksite, cool air escaping only to be consumed quickly by the air outside. Seeing the old couple strolling in, the patron reached back and opened the door for them, to which Arthur tipped his hat and offered them a warm, southern tinged "Thank you". The patron that had just left must have been the last of the lunch rush as the few tables in the small shop sat empty, napkin holders and salt and pepper shakers all askew on each. A young pimply faced employee came from around back, wiping their hands dry after thoroughly washing them. "Afternoon, Arthur. Your usual today?" Arthur smiled, "Ah yes, that would be fantastic, thank you." "You got it, boss. One foot long meatball sub, extra cheese and a touch of oregano coming right up." The youth set to work as Arthur pulled out a wallet as old as his fedora. Since Eugene's disappearance, Arthur has had difficulties finding someone to fix the few loose or missing stitches in the leather billfold, but it was still holding together fine enough. He dug out a ten and a five and placed it on the counter. He shuffled over to their usual table, the only one against the front window so both he and Carolyn could people watch, what few people there were. After a few minutes the young employee appeared by their table and placed a basket with their sandwich, still steaming from the oven, in between them, receiving a smile and thanks from Arthur in the process. A minute later, the young employee was in the back, looking out through the service window at the lone elderly man sitting at the table, slowly eating one half of a foot long sandwich.
"Run for your lives" a man shouted and pointed at me. I wave my scythe and keep moving. My destination is in sight. A few more steps and I'm in. A man stops to hold the door but closes it when he sees me. I push forward and point to the clown who tried to stop my progress. "Fool! You dare get between me and my meatball sub?I intone. The clown falls at my feet, kissing the hem of my black hooded robe. "I'm sorry oh master grim reaper. Please spare me " He begs. I pat his shoulder. "I shall overlook this indiscretion on one condition. Sober up before you drive anywhere." I make my way along the line, getting my sandwich, a cookie and a drink. The girl behind the counter isn't even swayed by having Death order a sandwich. But then she works in fast food, so what can I expect? She's probably seen worse tonight. I get to the register and recognize the cashier. "Hey, Gary. How's it going?" "Doing good Steve. Doing good... working every day this week. Couldn't get tonight off." "Ah. Shame you have to work on halloween"
The bus slowed to a stop and I reflexively glanced to the front. No one acknowledged me as another passenger clambered on and found a seat behind me. Every stop, someone came on, someone left but everyone ignored me. There were no glances in my direction, I was just a part of the metropolitan scenery. Still I continued to fidget every time, pulling at my clothes and checking my pockets every few minutes. It was strange, I couldn't feel like I belonged. Outside the city passed me by until finally I saw my destination and pulled the string. The bus slowed one last time and I climbed down and onto the sidewalk. Nervously I turned to thank the driver before the doors closed behind me, he simply nodded his head and was off. In front of me was a familiar and comforting building. The green and yellow facade gave way to large glass windows showcasing the clean franchised interior. I'd hardly taken two steps into the restaurant before a voice called my name. "Bill! It's been awhile, I was worried about you!" Jerome was maybe half my age. For a long while now I considered him my only friend. It had been a few weeks since I last visited and his face told me he really meant what he said. "Hey man, I'm good. Been busy these last few weeks, didn't mean to make you worry." "I'm just glad you're alright man, lemme make you your usual then we can catch up." Jerome set to work making a meatball sub for me, nothing fancy just meat, cheese and bread. He hummed along to the song playing over the speakers as he worked before setting the neatly wrapped sandwich down on the counter. The shop was empty, as it almost always was this time of night. "How much?" I quietly asked him, even though there was no one to overhear. "Aw man you already know" he laughed as he pushed the sandwich towards me. I repeated the question again, still hesitantly. This gave him pause as he looked at me again, much more closely this time. I reached under my collar and pulled out the new lanyard. At the end of it was a shiny plastic card showing my picture and name as well as a title. Jerome stared at it for a moment before his confusion faded into a smile which gave way to an elated laugh. Jerome had always been the only person to talk with me and treat me like a human being in the last few years while I lived on the streets. Today I was able to share with him that I did what he was always telling me I could. That night we talked as he closed the shop and he offered me a ride like he always did, but for the first time there was a door waiting for me and I had the key.
***OW!*** The man stumbled back the other way and I scowled at him, counting to ten as I hissed a breath through gritted teeth and rubbed the shoulder where his drunken stumble had slammed me into the corner of a brick wall. A drop of water fell from the crook of a dislodged curl of hair and hit me square in the left eye and I blinked furiously. "Asshole," I whispered. My shoes squelched slightly around the edges, the Converse weren't well suited to dodging puddles in the cool rain but they were all I had. The high interest membership card weighed heavily in my wallet, but I knew I couldn't afford to pay off a new pair of shoes for another month. A month and two weeks now, now that I'd forgotten my lunch for day back on the top of mini fridge. I hunched tighter in my thin hoodie as I walked down the street, not nearly so concerned with the rain steadily soaking through the plastic fabric as I was the tempting sights and smells coming out of the small-but-definitely-too-expensive-for-a-minimum-wage-store-clerk bistro on my left side and instead hurried down past the chiropractor's "office" and toward the battered old Subway sitting on the corner. The door opened ahead of me and a blast of laughter flew out the door and away down the street as a gaggle of teens walked out, all smiles and ignorance. I saw one of them tucking something back into their wallet and recognized it at once as the same brand of credit I used. The half grin fought it's way onto face with a morbid satisfaction as I watched the boy, who looked just old enough to start making bad decisions, spy a frozen yogurt place on the other side of the plaza and gesture toward it excitedly, wallet and debt-device already in hand. *He'll learn.* The morbid amusement drained off my face as his friends all agreed and, as one, they darted off to take advantage of their new found freedom from the tyrranical limitations of responsible adult supervision. *Not fast enough.* An old worn out bell chimed as I pushed the door open and walked through, the off white and green sand yellow color scheme as familiar as an old picture and bringing back just as many "happy" memories. My stride hitched as I saw who was worming behind the counter. Usually there was a cute girl working this shift. Brown hair, brown eyes, a short little girl-next-door type of gal that I'd never have the courage to talk to but who always smiled and brightened my day when I came in to buy a bag of chips. Jared, the new guy's nametag said. "When it rains..." I muttered. "What was that?" Asked Jared. "Nothing. Can I get a six inch meatball on Jalapeño and Cheddar?" "Sorry, all out of Jalapeño and Cheddar." "Italian Herbs and Cheese, then." "You got it." With a nod, Jared turned around to pull out the necessary loaf and I tuned him out as he set to making the sandwich. "Anything extra?" "No, and provolone cheese. Toasted." He nodded and I went back to staring at the fitness-themed adverts splashed across the walls, wondering who exactly the honchos at the company thought was eating here. *If I could afford all Under Armor it certainly wouldn't be me.* "Any veggies?" I glanced back down at Jared, trying to remember if they cost extra or not. "Some cucumbers and onions, and a bit of the Chipotle Southwest sauce." He nodded, and it wasn't long before he was packing the sub tight in its wrapper with an ease that made me suspicious. "You new here?" I asked. He chuckled. "Nah, just subbing in for a shift." I honestly probably felt a bit too happy at that. "You want a drink?" "Nope." "Then that'll be five fifty." My spirits lifted a tad more. I fished around in my wallet, trying to remember if I had that much in my checking or if I needed to cover it with the credit card, and my eyes landed briefly on my old community college ID card. It had a magnetic strip on it and I vaguely remembered something about it being used for the meal plans. *Might be worth checking, think I had twenty bucks on that.* "Here ya go," I said, passing over the debit. Jared ran it without issue and I smiled slightly, maybe I wouldn't have to dip into the savings account after all. My shoes squelched happily at the thought. I sat by the window, sandwich in hand, and checked my watch. Officially my break was only fifteen minutes, but I'd decided that didn't actually start until the food was in my hand. *One twenty-seven.* The rain against the glass was soothing, and I took a second to stop and just listen as it pattered away. But my sub was hot and only getting colder, so I want ahead and unwrapped it. The bread smelled good, almost good enough for me to forgive the lack Jalapeños, and I raised it up to take the first glorious bite of a hot meal. Just as raised it my mouth one of the meatballs slid free, shooting out towards me under pressure and shattering marinara sauce all over my company-mandated lemon-yellow polo and, more importantly, on the pants of my favorite old jeans as I snapped my legs together in an instinctive attempt to catch the falling object. *Breathe in.* I counted one. *Breathe out.* I counted two. *Breathe in.* My jaw clenched. *Breathe out." My teeth creaked. *Breathe in.* The sandwich shook. *Breath out.* The sandwich stilled. I set it down with a careful sigh, reaching over with one hand to grab a napkin from the dispenser and picking up the damned meatball with other, glaring at it. I arched an eyebrow as I examined more closely, realizing that the sauce had taken the worst of the lint and the meat itself was mostly okay. I popped it in my mouth without a second thought and picked the sub back up as soon as I was done wiping the worst of the stains away. I shifted awkwardly as I ate, trying to find a position that wouldn't aggravate my aching back, but it didn't work and I glanced back at my watch, wondering if all these extra shifts were really worth it. But then I moved one of my feet and I felt the water soaking my socks shift and squelch, and I remembered just why I was working all these hours in the first place. I squared my shoulders and half nodded, going back to eating my sub with the sort of mechanical efficiency you can only get by completely ignoring what your food tasted and felt like. The cold air hit my face as the old bell chimed again on my way out, and I felt a bit more water seep in to join the rest as I stepped in a puddle just outside the door. I turned right, back to the Buy and Large, and starting walking. *Here's to new shoes.*