Ace

RODRIGUEZ

               I don't know what's wrong with me. It's like I couldn't control myself. It's like my brain had a mind of its own. I've been more depressed than anything else, and no one knows this, but I've tried to kill myself once already but then decided to wait until Sam has her baby in a few weeks. I wanted to at least know what his name would be. Then I realized I would like to live if Sam had the baby before I killed myself.

               I knew what I would do. I'll go to City View Lofts today and jump off. The rest of my days would be over today, at two fifty-nine p.m. I'd see my mother again soon.

               When I got home, Sam was there. She was sitting in the recliner reading and sipping away at tea. I approached her without saying anything. When I was within her range of noticing me, she looked up, surprised.

               "Oh," she smiled, "Welcome home. I didn't hear you come in."

               I didn't say anything. I stared at her blankly and took a thick envelope from my pocket. I gently set it on the stand next to her.

               "I noticed that a lot of your stuff is gone," she continued, "Did you store it somewhere, or did you decide you didn't want it? What did you do to all that stuff–"

               "I sold it," I replied blankly, "I decided that I didn't need that stuff anymore."

               "Wait, what?" she inquired, "Rodriguez–"

               "The money's in that envelope," I said, "You can have it. My paycheck's in there, too." I started to walk to the door.

               "Wait, Rodriguez, why did–" I opened the door and shut it before she could ask me why I'd been acting strange recently. I checked the time. It was two-thirty.