Just another day

The tiny specs of aluminium in my beard sparkle under the bathroom’s fluorescent lights. I’ve got 6 minutes left, zero-point-one of an hour. Chuckling at the universe in my facial hair, I move my head from side to side and up and down marvelling as entire star systems are born and die. I could do this for hours. I could deal with the smell of stale piss and citrus from the urinal. I could tolerate the screaming of the over enthusiastic extractor fan. Just exist for a while as a God. I feel bad for the fan, constantly crying out but doomed to be ignored or at best disliked like a struggling artist only recognised if they die. After a while the noise just seeps into you and you forget it’s there. It becomes a part of you like the cuts on my hand that I’m almost certain are infected. A soothing dull pain and throbbing itch in the heart line of my palm that constantly begs to be scratched. I feel it even now. Secret. Me. I take my phone out of my pocket. No notifications. Three minutes left. Zero-point-zero-five of an hour. My heart starts to knock on the door of my chest. I’m suddenly aware of how long it’s going to take to get from the workshop to her office and yet I’m not rushing. Probably for the same reason I’m not cleaning this swarf out of my beard. I imagine she’s at her computer now doing… whatever it is managers do to make themselves look busy. She’s looking at the clock in the corner of the screen and a smile spreads across her face. I assume, contemplating ways she can joke about punishing me without any intention to actually do so. Danni has some confidence issues. Insecurity blames her for the past. Danni is a recent divorcée who’s ex-husband was a less-than-faithful walking anus. Danni is on a journey of self discovery that includes redemption, redecorating and insomnia. I stare at my reflection in the mirror for a time but the show is clearly over and the credits are rolling. I raise my hand to my neck and feel under my jawline for my pulse, between my throat and my neck muscle it’s strong and fast. I close my eyes and take a deep breath. This is my target. I do this as a reminder. With my head now bowed, I open my eyes and I can see streams of blood that have drenched my shirt. Each pulse of my vein issues another wave of blood from my severed neck down my sodden chest to my abs and the floor. Looking to the mirror I am dry and fine, no blood, no wound, no problem. The alarm on my phone goes off and I’m officially late to my meeting.