Rebel (bp coyle)

Midday on a sunny autumn Monday. There’s a bit of a chill in the air but it’s really quite lovely here in the park. I’m not normally out and about at this time of day. I should be at work, typing away in my stuffy, windowless office, counting down the minutes until lunch.

Today I called in sick, first time ever. Twenty years and I’ve never missed a day. I even went in when my wisdom tooth was bad. It’s the way I was raised. Father was dictating letters on his death bed, that’s the ethos that was instilled into me.

I don’t think I could make a habit of this. One moment I feel pure euphoria at the freedom, the next my stomach is cramping with guilt.

So, you might ask, why am I here?

There’s no real reason. It’s just something I always wanted to do. Be a bit of a rebel, live a little.

I might take in a movie. Maybe something x-rated. I’ve never been brave enough to go to one of those.

Okay, that might be taking things too far. If I catch a bus now I could be in before lunch is over.

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