Doubt

Forgiveness is the release of all hope for a better past.

            When she reaches the top of the stairs, the song of triumph reaches her ears. She is to start the day right today.

            Could you send a list of all technical and non-technial workers in Florida, the email request reads.

            In the hallway, a collection of voices occupies the space of former silence. She then hears the click-clack of heels and the thuds of dress shoes pass by her cubicle.

            She complains that her everyday life is a bit too ordinary to write about, but is reminded that each moment is precious; even the tiniest of exchanges can contain an eternity of interaction, however subtle.

            “Hi Brian,” she says over her cubicle wall, hearing the shuffle of papers.

            “Hi Cory.”

            It is the tang of coffee that reactivates her brain and puts it into hyperdrive. Perhaps it is dehydration, but she feels a bit uncomfortable. But the past calls and it is Tom who was unfaithful. It was Seiwald who hit her and bruised her shoulder and arm.

            But life moves on, Tom lingers in misery and Seiwald is in jail. She works, filing and filling out immigration papers at Evelyn’s office. Everything happens for a reason, she tells herself. And she is beginning to let go of the past.

            She cries but her tears have moved on. She is tired but her body wills her forward. She trudges through emails and tedium like a seasonal professional.

            Get the day started, she tells herself. The transcendence of falling into a groove.

            “When I met you, I realized that I was trying to find myself for a long time.”

            “In what way.”

            …I was thinking for a long time what I would do after life with Tom. Of course, I did miss being with him. But the more I came to terms with it, I realized I missed being me. That’s why I started writing. To be myself again.

            What do you want to come out of your writing?

            I don’t know.

            Maybe you should publish.

            I’ve thought about it, but at this point it’s more like a journal than an actual novel.

            But is it fine if there’s no story? Is it fine if the story has no point? Some part of her wants to say no but perhaps it is her past talking.