WorkJournalAboutConnect
WorkJournalAboutContact

The end

May 19, 2022

For the past three days, I had been sweating bullets in my sleep, tossing and turning on my office seat during the day, and feeling distant from her at the dinner table. I avoided her gaze and came up with excuses why we couldn’t meet. I knew she knew that something was up. The far ends of my mouth were not their usual self bending upwards towards the sky. I found myself staring into the distance and my eyes had lost their shine.

My work as a mental coach for athletes and entrepreneurs wasn’t filling up my bank account at speed money was seeping out. I had already cut out all but the unnecessary expenses, yet the bottom was looming. My freelance work as a designer wasn’t looking too shabby either as my one and the only client had trouble in their business and couldn’t buy as much of my services as before.

I felt cornered. There was nowhere to go. Brick walls everywhere. Most of them had my hair, skin, and maybe a touch of red stuck on at the height of my forehead.

I could feel myself collapsing against that imaginary red wall, the bricks scraping my back as gravity did its job. I sat down on the cold rock-solid concrete, my noggin continuing its fall towards the abyss covered by my hands. That’s when I realized I had reached the bottom.

I needed to get out, and in my disillusionment, I saw only one exit.

I dialed her number. My hand was shaking. She answered. I told her we needed to meet. She could hear the coldness in my voice.

She came over, sat down next to me with an expression I had never seen before. For a reason.

The wind outside was picking up. The branches rattled against the window, and the temperature was dropping ahead of the dark clouds rolling in.

The door closed. I was alone. This was the biggest mistake of my life.

A black and white photo of the author Jussi's smiling face with shortcut hair and a short beard
plenty more loot in the vault

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