Something To Feel Better. (Short story for critique)

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    The cold heavy rain fell with crippling force. The walk from the car is normally a short distance to the entrance but felt like a mile in wet clothes and shoes.
    This miserable moment in the day was not the first of the day, merely another straw on the camels back. How many more would come before the back would break? The man had no interest in finding out. He walked slowly despite long legs that normally carried him gracefully wherever he wished. His dress shirt and tie were soaked to the point of transparency and weighed heavily on his shoulders.

    He looks back to the car, a sudden desire to just leave this place and all its endless rain for somewhere warm and sunny. A place the world would not feel so heavy on his shoulders. Would anyone miss him? Surely his kids would be fine without him, all three in their own jobs and houses for years now. Him and his wife were all but memories to them it often seemed.

    Speaking of, would his wife miss him? She was so distant lately. A distance that started long before he realized and was too far to bridge once he did. It was probably a matter of time before she found someone else who would be closer to her then him, why delay the inevitable.

    His employer would surely fail to care, he had made it clear today just how replaceable he was, maybe retirement was the right way to go. The thoughts of lounging on a beach in the sun made the beach with a cocktail in hand made his sore and cold body feel a little warmer.

    He turns back to the car and gets in. The engine fires up like it never stopped and the warm air from the vents instantly begins to soothe the all too deep cold he felt. He stares back at the house for a long minute. He has loved her for longer than he can remember, he would miss her more than anything else.

    He puts the car in reverse and backs out of the driveway, it was time. First gear and go, head out on that road. Second gear and smooth sailing, nothing to stop me now. Third gear and a sudden memory of his wife. Her blonde hair trailing in the wind from her open window and her carefree smile glistening in the sun while she rode along on a road trip they once took after the third kid had moved out. Las Vegas was a stunning city of lights and sights to see and more importantly he had seen it all with her. Down shift to first and stop at the intersection, all of that was in the past. A look in the mirror to a familiar sight. This was the last time he would see that view there was no going back now.

    “Life is like a series of intersections. Each one a choice on your path to wherever you are destined.” He had once said to his oldest son. “You choose your own path and take whatever comes along it.”. “But what if you don’t like the path you take? Can you ever go back?” The boy had asked. “As long as you don’t burn your bridges you can usually find a way back.” Was my answer. Burning bridges, hard to do in rain like this, but if he goes forward from here he most definately will.

    Honk! Came the sound from behind, urging me to go. No bridges would be burned today. He turned sharply on the wheel and hit the gas wheeling the car around hard. The car reved hard and he shifted gears. Second gear, how could he abandon it all without even trying. Third gear, there must be a way to make this right, and if not then there was always sunny beaches somewhere. Down shifting as the house approached he turns into the driveway. Putting the car in park he cuts the engine and removes the key.

    He leaps from the door and runs the short distance to the house door and swings it open darkening the portal to his comfortable bungalow. Standing before him, as if expecting him, was his wife, housecoat and tea in hand. Stepping to her she motions to hand him his housecoat. Brushing it aside he steps in and embraces her closely. A hug like those between couples separated for weeks was shared with his head resting gently on top of hers.

    Suddenly the day did not seem so bad.

    This was a writing exercise from a prompt found at This was not a true story, just an exercise in fiction.

    He’d had a bad day and just needed something to make him feel better

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