voices in my head

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Wednesday, April 19, 2006

Ride home

It is 7pm. The sky appears dark and overcast. Small, swirling clouds of dark particles in the form of tiny tornado-like clusters of dust devils, swirling above the hot desert ground. Ewan had just left the office. Glancing at his watch and then at the sky above him, he thought to himself, "what a gloomy way to end the night". He walked briskly towards his car, got in, threw his briefcase on the passenger seat and started the engine. In less than a minute after leaving the carpark, rain began to descend in such heavy downpour as Ewan turns his noisey wipers to full mode in a rather weak attempt to drive within his designated lane. It will take him at least an hour and a half, door to door, in such a weather. He turns his radio on and leans back as he continues his journey home.

Driving along the long straight highway that seem to lead to nowhere, Ewan begins to think to himself, allowing his mind to wonder away. "That boy Mike should really get himself an assistant. Or maybe a wife. He's got all his admin thrown all over the place. Talk about having a clean desk policy. And his shirt. He comes to work in that crumpled shirt, looking all shabby. Someone should really tell him to his face. For his own good, really." His mind wonders further as he ponders over his own likes and such. "I like shirts that don't crease. Crease-free or anti-crease they call it. I don't know what fabrics they're made of but i like it when they don't crease after washing them. I don't need to iron them, just hang them dry and they're ready to go."

In what seemed like a split second, coming out from nowhere, an old lady carrying an umbrella in one hand and a walking stick in another, appeared in front of the car. The car didn't stop, neither did it attempt to brake. Crashing into the car at 110km/hr, the woman lets out a cry that no one could hear, her body flying across the car in such an instant, it happened at almost a blink of an eye. Ewan's mind was on his shirt, oblivious to his surroundings as he continues to muse over some of the shirts he had previously purchased and how they creased almost immediately with the touch of water. "I like crease-free shirts." He repeats. "They are easy to handle. I don't spend hours ironing them. I just hang them dry and they're ready to go. I like crease-free shirts."

Posted by tinylife | Wednesday, April 19, 2006 | E-mail this post

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