Turning Point

Sitting in his dim-lit living room, he was chewing bad thoughts. None of the usual entertainment seemed to be of any interest anymore. Why did he feel like that?

He’d suffered a flash flood of bad memories he couldn’t wash out. The day hadn’t been that bad, really. The weather had been decent; there was even sun at one point. He’d squeezed in a comfortable place in the train back from work, triggered a shy smile from a pretty girl he’d crossed on the street.

“It’s all in the little things”, he thought.

For a moment there, he would almost have smiled. But when he got home, the world slowly fell back down onto him, one regret at a time. The place wasn’t all that bad, but the poor maintenance had rendered the apartment derelict and dirty. The water heaters rattled, the taps leaked. Most of the light bulbs had burnt out and were never replaced, out of laziness or lack of caring.

He’d poured his last glass of hope from the bottle. He couldn’t help but feel his heart slowly sink into the last puddles of his former life.

“Fuck it.”

Realizing there was almost comfort in this toxic state of mind, he decided to try and quietly work his way out of the emotional dead end he’d been stuck into for too long. He pushed the glass a little further on the coffee table, just so it would require a conscious effort to grab it. He sat a little straighter, gently rubbed both hands on his weary face.

The sigh that got out of him surprised him, but felt refreshing.

He got up, grabbed his favorite coat, threw it on and walked down the stairs into the hall. As he reached the street, he took a deep, long breath. The early evening air was fresh, but not cold. The dampness of winter seemed to be gone, at least for that moment. He’d normally head down the street to his usual places, walking a slow pace.

This time, he turned left.