After thinking and even dreaming of Cherri the night before, I awoke feeling well rested and cheerful. I felt so energized that I whistled as I grabbed my uniform from my closet and then headed to the bathroom to change. However, my cheeriness faded when I remembered when my uniform represented: Another hard day of work.
“Another day, another dollar.” I tried to cheer myself up as I looked at my reflection in the mirror and brushed my hair. I forced a smile and sang a song as I got dressed, hoping to lift my own mood. I could only manage it for a few seconds before I subconsciously stopped.
Looking at my reflection was a dangerous thing.
I was handsome; so handsome that I had been mistreated countless times at my original clinic. Looking at myself in the mirror, I wondered if there was something under my skin that was worthwhile, or whether handsomeness was all I had. Is there something I can add to this world before I die?
I had no special talents; I couldn’t help people the way Dr. Green could.
A genuine smile spread on my face when I remembered the fact that he had picked his job because he wanted to help shells. He was mean to me, but I still admired him. Maybe I am dumb… How could I be so attracted to someone who treats me so poorly?
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It was another hectic workday. I had to do a clean-up in the beer aisle. Another coworker was tasked with watching me do it. I kept glancing at her, barely hiding my annoyance. Management doesn’t even think I can clean up this spill correctly?
I mopped up the brown liquid, counting how many times I dragged the mop back and forth in my head. One, two, three…
“You’re doing that wrong!” My coworker informed me and snatched the mop from my hands. “I’ll show you how to do it right!”
My coworker continued to mop up the mess the same way I had been doing it. I cleared my throat. “I don’t see how that’s different from the way I was doing it…”
“Of course you don’t. You’re a shell.” The woman replied.
I frowned. Because I wanted to be of use, I grabbed a rag from the nearby cleaning cart so I could dry up the mess.
The woman eyed me like I was crazy. “Better let me do that, too.” She said.
My eyes felt hot. “Okay, I’ll just go stock some shelves, then.”
In reality, I went to the bathroom so I could cry. Trying to be positive, I repeated a thought in my head.
Things will look up.
Things will look up.
Things will look up.
But the day only got worse when I passed by coworkers and I realized they had been talking about me behind my back.
“I don’t know how he graduated; he can barely count. I really feel sorry for him.” One of the coworkers whispered. “I don’t think he’ll last long here.”
I was glad when I got off work and got to go home. I didn’t have any energy to risk spray painting, so I stayed in my apartment and ended up drawing pictures on pieces of printer paper instead.
I felt drowsy. People were exhausting, and I hated dealing with them. I didn’t know why I thought I would love working with them.
Again, I thought of how wonderful returning to the clinic would be. There would be nothing to worry about except for learning new things and avoiding cruel clinicians. And I could see Lyle again.
I closed my eyes and fell asleep with my cheek pressed against the picture I had drawn.
It was the shadow man from my dreams.
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