Goodbye future once so bright.

Lennie’s dead and so’s our dream. But it’s supposed to be fine, isn’t it? I’m just a poor damn ranch hand, I don’t get a peaceful life in a house of my own. I shouldnt’a gotten my hopes up so high. It’s my own goddamn fault.

The past few months were pretty rough; couple times I wished I was dead. I have never cried like that before… thought my eyes would pop outta my head.

When I’m not looking for work I’m preparing myself to look in the mirror, or to go out and see if anybody else’s gaze is as unforgiving as I am. But I’m not just preparing for a nightmare; years and years, I do suppose.

But nothing feels alright now. Not the length of my hair, or the fit of my clothes, and crying like a baby solved nothing.

I can leave. So what? Now what? Where do I go?

I don’t work in this little corner store. I mean, I run the cash register and I clean and stock the place, but I don’t get paid for it. My payment comes in the form of sleeping in the upstairs storage room. That’s the price I pay for killing my best friend, and Jesus Christ, am I in debt.

There’s been one customer in the store all day. Samuel, the man who owns this place and gives me board, is manning the register. The customer meanders about the aisles, seemingly unaware of how the place is set up. I’m stocking and wiping off shelves.

The customer says something about how hot it’s been recently. Samuel responds with how the economy is going to shit and the War and everything else. Like he’s been waiting all day for someone to get him started.

I pipe up front the back of the shop. “Yeah, well, if you believe in the Lord above, get on your hands and knees and pray for us.”