Steelheart

02. | mr. architect

I can't even begin to explain how happy I am about the week being over. I love my job. But I'm barely hanging on. I think even saying "I love it" is reaching. It hasn't been the same for quite some time now.
Ever since I was a young kid, I enjoyed nothing more than spending my time exploring my city. The city of Pittsburgh. Steel City, if you will. I'm what most people here would call: a 'yinzer'. Devoted to my hometown, in every way possible. Just like my father.
I can recall one specific time, I went out with him to see something great. My first core memory of doing something significantly scary as a child.

He took me, my brother, and my mom to the Butler Fair. It was the best damn fair out at that time. It was especially hot that evening too. Humid. The kind of humid we probably won't ever feel again. They had a Ferris wheel that looked like it could touch the clouds. So of course, I told him I wanted to ride it. And just like that, we did. He always did whatever I wanted. No questions asked.
My little brother was too scared so it was only my dad and I. It took a while, but when we reached the top, he put my arms as high as they could go and said:

"Touch the clouds, Silas. They feel like cotton."

Whenever I go anywhere now, and it's just the right amount of humidity, I watch the clouds. The fluffier looking, the more warm outside.
Though I may be like my father in many ways, and I can confidently say I've inherited some of the best qualities from the man, I can also say, I'm lacking one thing. And that's his work ethic.
Before John had any serious personal issues, he was a working man first. Even before being a husband or a father figure. It was just in his blood. Same for his father and so forth. It was just "the Elsher thing to do.", as my family says.

Then there's me. Silas Elsher, the daydreamer. I'd rather waste away in struggle and debt, finding the real meaning of life, than spend the rest of mine creating corporate buildings until I die. In another life, I would be doing anything else at this point. Anything to escape reality that is.
Contrary to belief, the human race was just not created to spend its entirety, laboring itself to a point of no function. Emotional togetherness is what society would benefit from. What a dream that would be.
So my work ethic is simply not comparable to my father in any way. I've come to terms with it. I take pride in spending hours punching a bag, or shoving myself into a new sculpture if I have time. As of recently though, it's been spent only daydreaming. I've had my mind on one person. One thought.

Vera.

I'm not even sure what it is about her that draws me in. Or maybe it's that she feels familiar to me. I swear I've seen her before. I have no clue when that would've been though.
It could be the weird onset of déjà vu that one gets when they've indulged too much. But that wouldn't explain the continuous fantasies I've had this entire week. All surrounding our night at the club. It's the stupidest thing, but something keeps urging me to just call her. If I haven't let the thought go for this long, it must mean something.
This morning I decided I was done thinking about it. The part where you try to wake up and tell yourself that you're just going to do it. Whatever 'it' is. It's done. My 'it' is calling her. That and training with Cree. Our usual Friday evening shenanigans.
I'm always pumped to train, even though I'm not training for anything in particular. Just personal gain, I guess. I love boxing because it serves as a connection to the men in my family. I'm just not exactly supported by them.
What I mean is, that my dad ruined any chance I had of taking it seriously, the day we found out about his addiction. Now boxing is just a thing I use to pass my time away. Of course not without getting some actual fights in, topped with a nice little pay cut. That's where Abdul comes in.
The referee from earlier? Abdul handles all the street fights. Somehow, he fights a private spot, one we haven't used before, and he'll text everyone involved. Not from his phone though. A burner one. Everyone gets the location, but the actual fighters, get it first. It's one hell of a system. I just show up.

Fridays are my most motivating and self-serving day of the week. Seeing as I spend most of my week authorizing a large office of people, ones I care for deeply, it's pretty disheartening to come home to nothing every day. A large condo, so tall it could reach the heavens, a view that anyone in their right mind would die for, but nobody to share it with.
Though that might sound melodramatic and cheesy, I fully understand it now.