Tired

Published by Iain Aschendale in the blog ...from a dark place. Views: 196

There's an informal sniper motto that goes:

"Don't bother running, you'll only die tired."

I often apply that to the folks who bolt out of the one train I take, hoping against hope to make the two-minute distance fit the one-minute connection time.

But today...today today today.... the train I was going for, when I was at about the halfway point, decided to be just ever so slightly late.

So I ran. I fucking ran. Through the second rush-hour crowd, through the connecting station, down the stairs.

I ran as fast as my fat body decently could.

And had I been a little more bold, a second faster, thrown myself down those last stairs, I would have been able to slide through the moving doors rather than being stopped, like Agent Smith at the safety-less elevator doors, by a rapidly closing 9 inch gap.

But I was fucking panting like a Pomeranian on a hot summer day.

Shoulda known better.

As is, I got home at 21:37 instead of the possible, maybe, coulda shoulda, 21:23 pm.

Tired.
You need to be logged in to comment
  1. This site uses cookies to help personalise content, tailor your experience and to keep you logged in if you register.
    By continuing to use this site, you are consenting to our use of cookies.
    Dismiss Notice