Questions - Short Story (Cannery Row / Fall Edition 2025)
The routine is monotonous but safe, the work stable and therapeutic. Here on the ninth, I'm no nearer to any goal, but somehow further from harm. As my clock ticks away, I have been reborn; as a man of fear and regret. So many regrets and such pointless fear. Old, bad habits have become new and trusted friends, most of my actual friends now discarded in acts of petulance or self-isolation. I can just about see the faces of my children but don't feel them, can’t recall their gentle scents. Nor do I hear their little voices or get to answer the vital questions they ask. For no reason other than my own, I have become alone and, for the first time, lonely. Lost in this shell of flesh and bone, I see no way of escape. The past few years I crumbled into the person I am now, so full of self doubt and loathing, no more questions to ask, waiting only to die. I am empty, have nothing left to give. I know I've let you all down, and I'm sorry. I just couldn't take ...