Last updated August 31st, 2023 | by steinaech | Posted in Short Stories
Originally written November 17, 2008
“So then what?”
“Shit’s over.”
“That’s it? Shit just ends?”
“Yea, what else is there to happen?”
“Good point. Won’t feel it coming. Won’t be able to talk about it afterwards.”
“Of course not, so why worry about it?”
“I’m not really worried about it. I just wanna know what comes next.”
“Don’t ask for too much. You might be disappointed.”
“Ahhh, fuck it.”
They continued down the crowded city street. Everybody was hustling everywhere, buying things, bringing things back, taking care of business. The two men continued on, silent now. Not much crossed their minds or interested them anymore. Life had grown drab. Everybody seemed like they had something important to do, but nothing really appeared to be important to the two men. They woke up, ate, went to work, came home and sat around, finished up some papers if they even felt that inclined, and slept. The only thing they ever really talked about was what to do next, whether they were doing anything in the first place or not.
Or maybe what could happen next. That was one thing that still interested them. What will happen next. Was it important. Did it really matter. Maybe. Nobody really talked about it. People were somewhat put off that these two men sometimes talked about it, but the two men never asked why. They just walked on, that’s all there was to do next.
They walked up the metal stairs to their apartment, opened the door, and entered. One plopped down on the couch and stared at the white wall ahead of him, and the other headed for the kitchen. He opened the cabinet where the cereal was and pulled out a bag and poured it into a bowl that was on the counter. He grabbed a spoon out of the drawer below and placed it in the bowl and then opened the fridge.
“No more milk. God damnit.”
“God damns it indeed.”
The man in the kitchen straightened and stared into the empty fridge and sighed.
“We still got this game of chess going here.”
“Sounds good.”
The man from the kitchen joined the other man in the living room by the couch with the unfinished game of chess. They both stared nonchalantly at it. One peered at the clock. Five forty-five.
“I take your pawn with my bishop.”
“Aren’t you tough shit. Take your bishop with my knight.”
The black rook moved halfway down the board.
“Checkmate.”
“Oh god damnit, man. Fuck.”
He looked at the clock again. Five fifty-eight.
“Look at the clock.”
“Hmm.”
They both looked out the window.
That was it.