cracked, but in operating state
Hunter Hadlock
“No, no, hang up and try it again.” This had been the third time that Michael was having difficulty understanding someone on his phone, the water damaged speaker producing illegible sentences incomprehensible to the average human. Rebecca was annoyed, moreso for him not taking the effort to sell it and purchase a new one that would alleviate the problems these two were having.
“I just need you to pick up some eggs before you come back into town.” Through the mangled technology the phrase had turned into “I need pick legs before you drown”, a peculiar sentence that only warranted a shout.
“WHAT?” Michael’s yells had metamorphosed into a vacuum of speech. The speaker had damaged itself to the point of only producing noise, and provided further proof of Michael needing to take action, which, given his stubborn nature, was very unlikely.
Both of them hung up, realizing the futility of the current conversation, and Michael proceeded to venture back to his home, confused and annoyed at his current dilemma. The daily grind that was his convenience store job provided very little in the way of income, so purchasing a new phone that fit Rebecca’s standards was out. The two had also noticed a strain in their relationship, something that he figured would go away in due time but stuck with them. Perhaps purely texting to avoid her harsh shrills would do just fine.
Rebecca rushed to her old junker, not caring that the vehicle had a broken speedometer or an engine that had a tendency to build up black smoke. Perfectly normal and goes away quick, lied the seller. It was fine with her as long as it was cheap. The smoke started, but Rebecca had driven the road away from home a million times, even knowing the typical patterns of the daily nightcrawlers.
Michael was attempting to multitask, focusing on the road and responding to several co-workers and smoking buddies that needed to talk to him. Their conversations, long and detailed, necessitated more than half of his attention in order to respond properly. It was fine, though, since he knew well enough that he wasn’t speeding, and could brag about driving the winding roads with both eyes closed. Besides being overconfident, Michael was starving and delirious, having survived on a diet of burritos and Diet Pepsi for a week now, and was too distracted to notice the repeated light swerving he was making.
“I just need you to pick up some eggs before you come back into town.” Through the mangled technology the phrase had turned into “I need pick legs before you drown”, a peculiar sentence that only warranted a shout.
“WHAT?” Michael’s yells had metamorphosed into a vacuum of speech. The speaker had damaged itself to the point of only producing noise, and provided further proof of Michael needing to take action, which, given his stubborn nature, was very unlikely.
Both of them hung up, realizing the futility of the current conversation, and Michael proceeded to venture back to his home, confused and annoyed at his current dilemma. The daily grind that was his convenience store job provided very little in the way of income, so purchasing a new phone that fit Rebecca’s standards was out. The two had also noticed a strain in their relationship, something that he figured would go away in due time but stuck with them. Perhaps purely texting to avoid her harsh shrills would do just fine.
Rebecca rushed to her old junker, not caring that the vehicle had a broken speedometer or an engine that had a tendency to build up black smoke. Perfectly normal and goes away quick, lied the seller. It was fine with her as long as it was cheap. The smoke started, but Rebecca had driven the road away from home a million times, even knowing the typical patterns of the daily nightcrawlers.
Michael was attempting to multitask, focusing on the road and responding to several co-workers and smoking buddies that needed to talk to him. Their conversations, long and detailed, necessitated more than half of his attention in order to respond properly. It was fine, though, since he knew well enough that he wasn’t speeding, and could brag about driving the winding roads with both eyes closed. Besides being overconfident, Michael was starving and delirious, having survived on a diet of burritos and Diet Pepsi for a week now, and was too distracted to notice the repeated light swerving he was making.
The black smoke now filled the windshield of Rebecca’s car, her luck having been absorbed through all the nearby cops being busy with pot-smokers. Her frustration was at a peak she hadn’t reached before, annoyed at Michael’s laziness with the phone, as well as him not even bothering to look at the engine after his swing shifts. Her phone was firmly gripped, trying to come up with a way to reach him beyond having to make heads and tails of his noise.
“Texting..”, she realized, “that son of a bitch can read can’t he?” Michael was now making his way to the bridge, finishing up his last text before the notification alerted him of Rebecca.
Rebecca waited for a reason that he was late and couldn’t be bothered to fix anything that was wrong in their life, wondering why she hadn't just jumped off the bridge she was approaching now.
Michael apologized. Rebecca was dumbfounded
Neither of them noticed each other as they collided.
The gash on her forehead was the only proof on her being of the wreck she was now crawling out of. It was quickly ignored as she hurried to the hunk of metal that could formerly be called Michael’s car.
Michael, lumped over to the side of the driver’s seat to where half of him was floating above the blue abyss, couldn’t feel the lower half of his body. He contemplated the mistakes that lead him here, beyond merely the phone that distracted him so badly. The stress of keeping a relationship, one that had shown numerous signs that any love was gone, had resurfaced now. This facade was ending.
Rebecca, now worried about this man who had a sliver of sensitivity, opened the car door as its hinges fell apart. It was too late, however. Michael had already unbuckled the seat belt that kept him above the bridge. Tears formed as she knew that the best side of him, not worn down from work and more similar to their days of pure love, was forever gone, their last memento sitting in the wreck, cracked but in operating state.
As Michael fell, he wondered what he would miss most in his descent towards death.
He chose legs. Then he drowned.
“Texting..”, she realized, “that son of a bitch can read can’t he?” Michael was now making his way to the bridge, finishing up his last text before the notification alerted him of Rebecca.
Rebecca waited for a reason that he was late and couldn’t be bothered to fix anything that was wrong in their life, wondering why she hadn't just jumped off the bridge she was approaching now.
Michael apologized. Rebecca was dumbfounded
Neither of them noticed each other as they collided.
The gash on her forehead was the only proof on her being of the wreck she was now crawling out of. It was quickly ignored as she hurried to the hunk of metal that could formerly be called Michael’s car.
Michael, lumped over to the side of the driver’s seat to where half of him was floating above the blue abyss, couldn’t feel the lower half of his body. He contemplated the mistakes that lead him here, beyond merely the phone that distracted him so badly. The stress of keeping a relationship, one that had shown numerous signs that any love was gone, had resurfaced now. This facade was ending.
Rebecca, now worried about this man who had a sliver of sensitivity, opened the car door as its hinges fell apart. It was too late, however. Michael had already unbuckled the seat belt that kept him above the bridge. Tears formed as she knew that the best side of him, not worn down from work and more similar to their days of pure love, was forever gone, their last memento sitting in the wreck, cracked but in operating state.
As Michael fell, he wondered what he would miss most in his descent towards death.
He chose legs. Then he drowned.