Short Story Draft English 208: Incomplete Draft (23 February 2012)
I’m not insane. I’m not crazy nor am I psychotic. I am not a lunatic nor am I a maniac. But I promise you that I am as normal as anyone could possibly be. I was born into the most normal family anyone can imagine. I think they’d probably fit the cliché of a white suburban stereotype. You could probably take a picture of us and use it as an ad in a magazine promoting family bonding and togetherness reading, “All it takes is effort to bring happiness!” I live in an apartment complex in the middle of the city, nothing too fancy. It’s a standard apartment containing the average messes of any single man; clothes scattered aimlessly throughout the floor, random bags of chips and bottles of soda cluttered on the dining room table, papers and folders piled up on my work desk. Just average. I work at a local tax firm called Norm and Al’s Tax Office across the street from a diner where I always go for my lunch break. I always order a cheeseburger with a side of fries and a Coke. That’s as average of a lunch as you can get. I have no girlfriend nor am I married. I’m just alone and living life as normal as I possibly can. I’m no different from any other man. So how can I possibly be insane? How? My name is Michael Nathaniel Scott, common man.
I’ll say this again, I’m not crazy. I’m really not. But I’ll tell you something that I am. I am in love. I am in love with a woman named Jennifer Watson. She works at the same tax firm as I do; 5 cubicles down and 3 to the right from mine. Trust me I’ve counted, counted about 521 times to be exact. That’s the exact amount of times I’ve stared at her from a far. She goes to the same dinner as I do and orders the same exact meal every day, a cheeseburger with a side of French fries and a Coke. She has such great taste when it comes to food. She even removes the pickles and places it on a napkin just the way I do. Jennifer lives in an apartment complex called the Sani T. Inn, exactly 3.2 miles away from my apartment. It’s located on the corner of Rutherford St. and Dawson Ave. She lives on the 18th floor of her apartment complex, Room 362. Her bedroom window overlooks the city. It’s a beautiful site. It really is. Trust me, I’ve seen it. I’ve never really worked up the courage to talk to Jennifer nor does she even know I exist. She passes me by every day at exactly 2:32 p.m. to go to the restroom. But I can tell that during those brief two seconds that she passes by my cubicle, I can guarantee you that she stares at me. She’s probably in love with me as well. We’re two peas in a pod as they say. Just as average as I am. And today is the day that I’ll work up the courage to speak to her.
The time was 2:20 on September, 31st 2001, exactly twelve minutes before Jennifer makes her daily routine bathroom break. I get up and peek to see if she was getting up but the only thing in sight were the bad hairdos of all my co-workers and the unique grid pattern of our cubicles. I sit back down to my perfect 6x6 cubicle with its grey borders, grey desk, grey computer, and the piles and piles of paperwork to my left. It’s filled with the aroma of freshly printed documents and plastic folders. Nothing is out of place. The staples are all neatly stored in their box inside the top right drawer. The stapler is placed at a 45 degree facing away from me so my hand doesn’t have to struggle when I reach for it. It was my own little slice of heaven. Sweet, perfect, normality. I check the clock again. All I can think about are those precious seconds Jennifer uses to walk passed my cubicle towards the restroom. My stomach is turning, my palms are sweaty, my vision starting to blur, my head begins to ache; pulsing and sending shockwaves of pain throughout my brain. This is the feeling of love; I just know it. The time is 2:31, just a single minute away from seeing Jennifer’s beautiful figure grace its way through these boring halls. I peek above my cubicle once more. All I feel is pure anxiety and nervousness.
It’s exactly 2:32; right on schedule. I see her gorgeous black hair radiate the room as it rises above her cubicle. I tell myself that today is the day. Those words constantly repeating in my head like a broken record. Today was the day. Today is the day. Today. Today, she’ll know just how perfect we are for each other. I’ll expose her love for me. My face clenches up, putting on the best smile it could muster. I check myself in the small mirror to my right. I look good. I look perfect. An image fit to be her boyfriend. I see her pass by my cubicle taking such small yet graceful steps. God, she’s so beautiful. She briefly turns her head towards me. Her eyes meet mine and I knew it was the time. Get up, I told myself. Get the fuck up. I turn around and watched her pass me with a look of sadness on her face. She wanted me to say something. She wanted me to make her my queen.
“DAMMIT!!!” I screamed.
I yelled as loud as I could. I felt every bit of air from my body exit their way out of my mouth. I screamed at the top of my lungs until there was no air left inside of them and I was left in the middle of my cubicle standing alone trying to catch my breath. The office grew silent as they were all shocked at my display of frustration. They all rose up out of their seats and turned their heads toward my direction. They glance at me with their judgmental eyes. All I could see is jealousy radiating from their bodies, they were angry that Jennifer was mine for the taking.
The beating of my heart begins to speed up. Millions of eyes all begin to simultaneously focus their glare towards me. The longer they stare, the faster my heart races. They’re looking at me as if I’m crazy! I’m not crazy. I’m not crazy. More eyes fixate their glances on me. It feels as if my heart is ready to burst through my sternum and out of my chest. I’m not crazy, I’m just like all of them. I’m not different. Why do they stare at me like I’m insane? I can hear their whispers and their smirk little comments.
“WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU ALL LOOKING AT?!” I yell.
Their eyes quickly turn away from me. My heart begins to slow down. I’m calm. I’m normal. I’m fine. I sit back down and notice Jennifer exiting the restroom and walking back towards back her cubicle. This time I’ll do it. My face clenches up once more, putting on an even better smile than before. I check myself in the mirror just in case the yelling messed my hair up. Nope, I look good. I look perfect. Once again, she turns her head towards me and stares into my eyes, smiling and waiting for me to make my move.
Come on Michael. You can do it. Move dammit. Say something. You’ll miss your chance. MOVE!
“Jennifer!”
She quickly turns around looking towards me.
“Yes?” she asked.
The tone of her voice sounded so welcoming, so loving, so accepting. She’s perfect for a normal guy like me. My body felt the need to leap towards her and kiss her so tenderly.
“Uhh…Umm… Hi!” I said, “Umm… Wanna grab some lunch with me in a few minutes? We go to the same place every day and… Uh. We wouldn’t be so lonely if we’re eating together. Right?”
She looked at me with a face of confusion but she soon realized that this was my way of asking her on a date. A smile emerges from the cracks of her beautiful pale skin.
“Sure.” She said and walks back towards her cubicle.
I can tell she’s smiling right now. Her body must be feeling adrenaline coursing through her veins as well. She’s probably imagining the wonderful evening we’re going to have. How it will end in a kiss as I walk her towards the office building. How later that night we’re going to make love and proclaim our feelings for each other. My how we think alike.
Minutes go by and all I can feel the anxiousness setting in. My knees shaking ever so violently, rocking my desk up and down. My hands are trembling so quickly that not even vice gripping my leg could stop either of these movements.
(Source: louieangelo-s)
