Tired

He is tired. He also knows that what dampens his shirt is not only sweat. But mostly, he is tired. He leans against a wall and slowly lets himself down. He needs to rest. Just for a while. A few minutes. It all happened too fast. He is tired, but there is a smile on his face. He got it back. And that is all that matters.


The day at work was just like all the others, a bad one. So much yelling, shouting and screaming. He was sure that whoever came up with the idea of “Complaint Departments” was rotting in the lowest level of hell. But it was a living. And he had tricks to help him get trough the bad days. He could, for example, close his eyes and remember her smile. That smile that could brighten not only a room, a whole life. Or that funny thing he felt in his stomach when was able to caress her legs. In extreme cases, liked to think of her beautiful breasts and every single kiss he had placed on her nipples. But it was payday, so there had been no need for such advanced techniques.
He was on his way home when it happened. He found himself being pushed violently from behind. When he turned around to see what was going on, he saw a guy running away from him. With a quick hand movement, he realized what had just happened. He had been robbed. He began to run after the burglar. He tossed his briefcase to the side so he could move better. That bastard was not going to get away with it! He had earned what was on that wallet, and no one was going to take it away from him. The fugitive made a turn to the left, right into an alley. He knew it was a dangerous thing to do, but he could not afford to loose that wallet, so he followed. The alley was longer than he expected. If he made an effort, the was chance to get the thief before he reached the other end. He gathered all the energy he had, and borrowed some from who knows where, and ran. Olympic athletes would have been proud of him. There were still many feet away from the end when he caught the fast bastard. He threw punches and curses evenly. The thief was just a teenager, he could see fear in his eyes. While trying to defend himself, the hand of the kid allowed the wallet to hit the floor and pulled a gun from his back. With closed eyes, he shot three times before he started running again.


He is tired. But he is resting now. The wallet is back in his possession. His shirt is ruined though, he is not good doing laundry and blood stains are way beyond his abilities. But that is not important now. He opens his wallet, and from behind an ID, he gets a red bubble gum wrap. It is old and wrinkled. The rest of the wallet goes back to the floor. He is tired. Taking deep breaths, he unfolds the little red paper. Inside, those three words remain as black as the day they were written. “I love you” It is her handwriting. She had really meant those words then, but today, only his memories and the wrap are left. He misses her. He still loves her, more than anything else, but he is tired. He kisses the little piece of paper and place it close to his heart. He closes his eyes. He is tired.