Tomorrow

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Dylan spent the evening watching motivational speeches on the internet. He was ashamed, but he cried several times. He convinced himself it was cathartic.

Later on he watched a few videos from creative folks who could make things like pens out of bars of solid metal. He wasn’t sure what CAD was, but it was something he decided to Google tomorrow.

At midnight, Dylan was tired of watching people more creative than him. He switched to travel movies. He couldn’t create, but he could travel. If he had the money, that is.

By 2:30 in the morning, Dylan got up to go to bed. He shut down his computer and looked around the room for the first time that evening. It was dark and familiar and depressing. It was another wasted day. Life was passing him by.

Dylan went to the fridge for a snack. All he found was a two pickles and a bottle of ketchup. Somewhere in the world, someone had a passion for ketchup. Someone else was an expert in pickle making.

Dylan was an expert in wasting time.

He shut the fridge and went to bed. Tomorrow he’d figure things out. It would be the first day in his own journey to becoming and expert in something. If only he could figure out what he wanted to do.

As he lay in bed, he listened to the sounds of the city. Tomorrow would be he’d figure things out. Always tomorrow.

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About vanyieck

There is nothing about me that is more interesting than you. I am a man. I have a wife and family. I have a career. I have two dogs. I
This entry was posted in fiction, flash fiction, short fiction, short story, story, Uncategorized and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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