Inbalance

The Boat

"It says here, 'Edith Melacasso: 23 company infringements' and we're still counting."

I didn't get two steps into my clinic before my boss hunted me down and dragged me into her office. The veterinarian center I worked for constantly reeked of animal shit and carcasses that would make any sane person puke and leave. We had nose plugs and respirators at the entrance of the Vet for the people who gagged at the first whiff of the putrid smell. For us workers, it was only accustomed to our senses. Customers were often confused by our ignorance to the deathly aroma.

I had obviously eaten my words about my tardies to work.

"What do you have to say for yourself?" Said my manager in a matter-o-factly voice, knowing I had no excuse for my non compliance to follow rules.

I looked down at my feet, looked back at her, and I shrugged. I chose to say nothing

"Get the hell out of my office and don't come back." She said. It was in my best interest to comply and I left.

The first step out of the clinic, my eyes watered. And it wasn't because of a sadness. It was tears of joy and relief. The raindrops had camoflauged my face and hid the tears running down my cheek. The exposure of my tears to the cold temperatures cooled the trails of droplets that followed down my nose and down my cheek all the way off of my chin and onto the ground, becoming one with the water on the ground.

I walked into my car and something sinister started to fill my brain. I had started to regret the effort I had shown, or the effort I hadn't shown at that. I no longer have an income. I no longer have money to go spend on things. My bank balance had read a little under $100 dollars.

I'm going broke