(Trying something new) Fumes

For this little mission I'm tapping into my inner Cormac McCarthy, author of The Road.

Friday morning was just like every morning. Easy and bleak. Hit the snooze button the maximum number of times then get up. The waygook looked out his east facing window. Darkness. This was new. After showering it was still dark. He turned the light on in the morning for the first time since he'd been there. The waygook ate quietly, got dressed, brushed his teeth, turned the light off, and left.

The waygook moved slowly to the elevator, tying his shoes as he waited. Going down in the elevator the waygook adjusted his tie but it never made a difference. He needed a new tie, but didnt care enough at this point. The tank was running low.

The waygook stopped at an empty coffee joint. He was familiar with the proceeding. But yet again, today was different.
     Drip or americano?
     Drip, the waygook said unsure of himself.
He didnt question it while mixing in the milk in. The first taste was horrible. A patch of pure bitterness sat on his tongue. The next sip was tepid water. He contemplated pouring it out but new this was his energy for the morning. Perhaps the day.

The waygook managed to get a seat on the subway and started reading the tail-end of his book. His uneasiness for the characters kept him turning the pages. After he got out from the underground the sky was still just as bleak and grey. The air was still getting warmer. The waygook felt as though he were walking down the same road as his characters. He didnt have to breath in ashes though. Patting his chest he realized what he had forgotten. The key to his easy day. He could picture the USB drive sitting on his table. The waygook contemplated taking a taxi home to get it. Walking into the courtyard snipped the progress of idea to action. He was already late.

With a long sigh the waygook marched inside dropped his things onto an empty chair and marched upstairs to the specialists office. While walking he was contemplating methods to hide the fact he had nothing prepared or present. Jeopardy he thought. He knew it was the only way. Sitting at his desk waiting for the computer to warm up he sketched the categories, the questions, the answers. It was all there. Now the waygook needed his ancient computer to cooperate. Closing the messenger that enrages him everyday. The computer picked up the pace. The waygook copied and pasted his pictures, questions and answers as he had planned with no set backs. He had 15 minutes to spare before his first class. Now the waygook needed to send it to the computer in his classroom. Attaching the email took far too long. The first break bell had gone by the time he got to his classroom. Children already at the door.

The children were excited. Drawing all over the chalkboard and whiteboard. Meanwhile rubbing elbows with the waygook. They were transfixed on the big screen connected to the computer watching the waygook frantically typing his way through sign in pages, attachment protocol, and dueling with the infamous Korean option on the keyboard as it reset with every new page. He could have screamed until he was hoarse. He closed his eyes once the game saved to the desktop.

The co-teacher enters right after my entire ordeal. Unaware that the waygook was completely unprepared. Friday was finally on his side.

Every class was off the wall. The waygook and the co-teacher channeled this energy through dance. Turn the  door knob and twist the light bulb to Feliz Navidad. Once lunch arrived the waygook never wanted to hear that song again. There were only fumes in the tank.

The lunch menu was made for a king. Japchae Noodles, a milder kimchi, plain cucumbers, sticky rice, and apple pastries. The waygook barely chewed it. The teacher eating across from the waygook mentioned something.
     It's really raining outside.
     It will stop before 4.
     How do you know?
     I just hope, the waygook said looking up from his food and crossing his fingers.
     Ha ha ha ha.
(Stepping outside Cormac, some Koreans actually laugh like this.)

The afternoon rolled by slowly. The waygook was happy he finished the book but drowsily dipped in and out of the narrative. On the last page he wasnt sure if he understood the final scope of the fictitious world. The waygook left early to go to the bank to pay his bills. There was a way to do it after hours, but he didnt know how. The rain was ever-present when the waygook left the school. Thankfully he always packed an umbrella. The waygook walked on the curbs whenever he could. Eyeing the dry spots on the warped roads. When he got to the bank it was barren. The waygook walked up to the closest clerk who looked at the bill and walked him to the machine, entered his pin, watched her hit a sequence of buttons he couldnt read then the waygook thanked the clerk and left.

When he got on the subway he met one of his friends from the very beginning. She looked almost as tired as him. They agreed a vacation needed to happen soon, certain things are ridiculous in this new country, and a bit of gossip.

When the waygook got off at his stop he walked into his apartment and hung up his winter coat and danced out of his work shirt and tie in the warm air of his apartment. He looked at the time and knew he should return his finished book before dinner. He didn't want his shoes to get wet so he wore flip flops out since the weather was mild enough and put a raincoat over his undershirt. He took his umbrella too.

The walk was 15 minutes but it felt much longer. The incline wasnt significant but the water on the ground running in between the sole of his foot and the flip flop was chilling. Then the waygook caught a snag in the road. Disconnecting the strap from the base of the flip flop. The waygook took half a step and knew he couldnt go on like this. Holding the umbrella in between his neck and shoulder he managed to reconnect the strap to the foot pad. Now he could feel the water on his pants and seeping through his jacket. The umbrella was useless but it was better than nothing.

The trip back from the library consisted of the waygook mapping the outline to his blog entry. The patters on his umbrella slowly became thuds of rain. It was coming down in sheets. His thoughts mostly centered around the name of a narration style he neglected to use, and snippets of images long-forgotten. Once the waygook got to his apartment his pants were stuck to his long johns and his long johns were stuck to his legs. He took off his pants, coat and long underwear and laid them on the drying rack.

Now the waygook sits eyes half open giving a half-there stare at his laptop. His fingers are slowing down. He knows the piece needs editing but that can come later. Publish now and fix in the morning. He decides he needs a power nap, or a Red Bull. He choose the Red Bull and went out to play board games and have a couple brews with friends. The waygook caught the subway home and slept soundly until the morning.