Going Back Home
He pounded the pack of cigarettes before tearing off the cellophane.
“I thought you quit.”
“I did.” Steve lit up. “I got a lot on my mind, ma.” They continued to walk down the crowded city sidewalk as the sun set behind skyscrapers. “Where are you staying?”
“The Hilton.”
“Which one?”
“What do you care, Steve? Really?”
He shrugged. “When are heading home?”
“Tomorrow morning.”
“Oh.”
“Why?” His mom glance over at his shadowed beard and glimmering eyes. “Do you need money or something?”
“Yeah.” His stare dropped to the ground. “I have to go to the dentist.”
“For what?”
“What do you think? My tooth hurts.”
She pulled out a thin checkbook from her white travel purse and looked around the street for a cab.
At the Store
“Uh…” The cash register dinged. “Sixteen twenty-two.”
Steve pulled out his money clip as the clerk bagged the wine.
Quite Insane
I think it was about my early twenties that I first began considering the fact that I was insane. Another might call my certain psychological disposition in those days as… abnormal. An argument could surely be made nonetheless that ‘insane’ might be too harsh a word to describe me.
I feel otherwise.
For I have listened to such arguments and after much deliberation, I have confidently come very close to confirming I am quite insane. But at least we can all agree that when compared to other humans, as strange as they can be, I am, well… abnormal.
So let’s start there.
I don’t act like other people. I never have. Regardless of everything, I’ve just always been sort of… doing my own thing. But the whole thing about that is, whatever “my thing” is has recently revealed itself to be nothing more than illusion constructed by silly desires and convoluted memories. So, I must be quite insane.
I mean… who the hell am I in the first place?
To be continued...
© USA 2009, 2026
This was the eighteeth part of a cross-genre short story composed in 2009 at the College of Santa Fe.