Holly Rose – Too Late

June 30, 2014 | By | Reply More

My belly flipped as I raced down the street. I could hear the sharp squeal of the heavy brakes and the roar of the engine. Come on, come on. I hit the intersection just as the blue and white bus disappeared from view. Crestfallen, I stood in a pothole filled with snow and ice soaking through my waterproof shoes. Now I was too late to stop it. I was sure of it. My body buzzed with dread. It was probably already happening.

I fished my cell out of my purse; dialed the local cab company. The “right away” from the gruff voice sounded almost like he was mocking me. I turned and ran back up the steep street to my apartment, my sopping shoes smacking the pavement.

My heart was thundering when I reached my step. So uneasy I felt I might vomit, I paced outside waiting for the bright orange car to peak over the rolling asphalt. The minute hand on my rainbow-striped watch had changed numbers almost four times. My feet were almost numb, but dry socks remained a wish for fear I would miss the taxi.

Finally my near panic was temporarily silenced as the orange beacon came into view. The rusty car roared up, stopping in front of the white split level, two doors down. Shaking off my disgust at him blatantly ignoring both the fact that I was clearly waiting and that my house number was displayed clearly by the front door, I took off running.

Inside it smelled like stale cigarettes, lingering vomit. I pulled at a loose thread on my tweed jacket. My knees bounced high as my legs quivered. I pressed my fists down on my thighs as my chest grew warm with perspiration.

He stopped at every light. EVERY FREAKING LIGHT. There was no way I was going to stop now what I had foolishly put into motion. I saw the tall glass building looming in the distance, taunting me. The traffic crawled through downtown, the driver honking and riding the tailgate of a black pick-up. Screaming behind my teeth, I tossed some bills on the passenger seat and slammed the door.

The wind was biting cold as I weaved between the brave pedestrians who were desperate for a spring day stroll in the lingering frigidity. I pulled the heavy glass door towards me and was brought up solid against it. Sheepishly, I pushed the door forward, digging my toes in for strength.

The neon circular lights moved slowly. 3, 4, 5 . . . 6, DING! The heavy steel doors slid open and I pushed past the other riders, making a beeline for Suite 6-D. Rounding the corner, I composed myself, my heart racing like a freight train.

His door was open. I scanned frantically on his desk for the pale manila envelope. He suddenly came in behind me and I jolted. His smile was kind, but his eyes sharp. It was there! In his HAND!!

“I guess you are here to discuss your resignation letter?” He was almost smiling, waving the torn envelope in front of me, teasingly. I breathed a sigh of defeat.

I was too late. I knew it.

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Category: Knowing

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