I often write short stories in my head.  This usually occurs at night when I’m trying to sleep and instead my brain tells me to go f*ck myself because it still has some thinkin’ to do.  I figured I could write them up and post them here and open myself up to criticism and disdain.

What can I say?  I’m a lawyer and I need a hobby that doesn’t involve systematically destroying my liver.  If you want to read, hit the jump.  Otherwise, feel free to ignore my random shit.

He sat down at his desk and turned on his computer.  He was fifteen minutes late, but still not in a hurry to start the day.  While the computer blinked to life, he leaned back in his chair and gazed out the window.  It was one of those days where all a person really wanted to do was stretch out on a blanket and read or take a nap.  He stared at people wandering the streets below – wondering to himself where it was those people were hurrying off to.  He figured some of them problem weren’t hurrying anywhere.  They’re probably those rich assholes who do things like play tennis at ten in the morning and take two hours lunches everyday.  Those people don’t know what it’s like to be in money’s stranglehold – to coast on fumes from paycheck to paycheck.

This reminded him – he’d bought a lottery ticket.  Pushing his chair back to his desk, he reached for his wallet and thumbed through it, looking for the ticket.  He pulled up the lottery’s website and found the numbers for the drawing.  He placed the ticket on his desk and began checking to see if it was a winner.

5.  Check.

15.  Check.  His pulse quickened.

26.  Check.

28.  Check.  This can’t be happening.

32.  Check.

9.  Check.

He rubbed his eyes and refreshed the website.  Then checked the numbers again – holding his ticket up to the screen to make sure he was seeing this right.

Did he just win the f*cking lottery?  His entire body was humming, thoughts swirling in his head.  He stood up and tried to catch his breath and think.  He grabbed the ticket and immediately signed it – that’s what you’re supposed to do, right?  His hands were shaking as he stared at the tiny piece of paper that had so much potential to change his life.

The website said to redeem the jackpot he had to go to the lottery office, which was over an hour away.  He had to go.  Now.  He couldn’t risk losing the ticket.  He e-mailed his boss that he wasn’t feeling well and was headed home.  This was a lie, of course, but he figured he’d probably be quitting soon so what did it matter.

Briefly, he thought about calling his wife, but he wanted to surprise her.  He thought he’d go and claim the ticket then show up at her office and take her for a fancy lunch and spring the news.

He gathered his things and went to the lobby to catch an elevator.  He noticed his hands were still shaking as he reached out to press the button.  His knees felt weak while he was standing there waiting.  Again, he started to think about what he could do with the money.  He could be one of those assholes who plays tennis at ten in the morning and takes two hour lunches.  No more meetings, no more spreadsheets or telephone conferences.  He couldn’t wait to send that e-mail to the entire office – quitting.  He began composing it in his head.

The ding of the elevator startled him out of his thoughts.  The car was empty and he stepped in, pressed the button for the lobby and leaned against the railing.  He was half afraid he might not be able to walk to his car.  The elevator doors closed and the car started to descend.  He again began to daydream…

Then the lights flickered out and the car started to drop.  Too quickly.