2023 Contest Entry

A Masked Stranger

Craig flings out of his bed and starts pacing the room recalling the events of the last masquerade ball.

That girl. With the feathered azure mask. How they talked and laughed and how they discussed their ambitions.
And when he turned to return a greeting to another guest just to find that she got swept away by another person and just as she turned to wave her hand at him before disappearing among the crowd he realised ... He didn't catch her name.

He identified a spark in her eyes his mother always said that she sees In his.
They're so alike.

He picked up the phone. Dialing.

"hey Frank. I need your guest list for the last ball."

".... It's 3 in the morning..."

Craig looked at his bedside clock unbelieving. He could've swore it was morning.

"oh. Sorry. Can you send it to me first thing tomorrow then?"

" sure... Anything else?"

"uh. No thanks."

" good! Never call in such hour again."
###

He doesn't recall it, but he must've slept because suddenly sunshine flood the room.

Craig checked his phone and found an email and a text from Frank "why do you want this again?"

"looking for someone."

Typing... " you're not gonna try and throw a party.. are you? 😑"

"oh, hell no! 😂"

"good!"

Frank was the guy who throws the parties in the group. It was kinda his thing. Take that away and you'd be taking his identity. Plus Craig isn't the type to host parties. He'd keep stressing trying to keep everyone happy while getting himself miserable and wishing it was over. Plus the small apartment isn't a stretch, but makes for a good excuse.

Usually the ritual after one of Frank's parties consists of a long cold shower and a double espresso. Craig always feels he needs to scrub himself hard inside and out after and then wonder why does he always go if he feels so uncomfortable after. It always seems like a good idea then. Regret a tomorrow problem.

At 24 He tried many jobs that required more work and humiliation than what it paid. Like an arcade cashier and occasionally janitor; working in a place that's mostly crowded with teens makes you recall your own teenage. That wasn't a good thing for Craig, but he thought the job would be kinda cool at first until it wasn't.

A barista at a small café down the street that didn't get many customers which is why the former cashier/janitor didn't bother cleaning much. How Craig hated the old puke stains at bathroom corners and the fossilised squished insects. He shivers at the memory.

Other places weren't so bad, but like a grocery store restocker. Didn't pay enough for the trouble.

When he was able to get a job as a communication customer service agent, he immediately liked it. The salary was good in comparison to his other jobs and more relevant working hours with proper breaks.

He got dressed, switched off the TV then grabbed his espresso mug and took off.

He can't afford a car yet so he walks to work everyday. It's not too far and Craig's used to walking.

The first wiff of conditioned office air makes him smile. It's hot today, but his colleagues usually make fun of him for liking his job so much. If they tried and hated as many jobs as he did as a teen they'd know to appreciate this one.