Turn of the Kaleidoscope

To be Free

"My name is Johnathan Matthews and everyday is the same, except today."

A thin pasty man leans over his bathroom sink. His shirt untucked but well pressed was white, unbuttoned, and sleeves rolled up to his elbows. A chartreuse tie slightly loose, dangles from his neck like a hangman's noose. Gravity pulls the sweat from his brow down to his pale hollow cheeks.

The ominous ticking of the wall clock reverberates throughout the small white tiled room. Every tick, every tock a stroke of the axe at the executioner's block. Dainty little fingers rest upon the porcelain, his breaths long and deep. Piercing almond eyes fix upon the mirror.

The usual after work routine, self reflection followed by a cold shower. But something was different, something was askew. You could hear it in his breath, even taste it in the air. Not even a blink, he glares himself down like a gunslinger in his final moments before the draw.

"There's always an explanation" he mutters to himself, followed by a prolonged breath.

Earlier that morning...

The buzzing of an alarm clock abruptly woke him from his slumber. Like clockwork he disabled his alarm and made his bed, sparing no detail. He slid open his closet door, the clothes nicely hung and labeled by the days of the week. After finishing the morning ritual he grabbed his sack lunch out of the fridge and headed out the door, leather case in hand.

He counted each step as he descended the staircase leading to the lobby of his apartment building. He repeated the same daily walk across the street and stood at the bus stop. Raising his arm and twisting his wrist he checked the time; 6:10;  ten minutes before the bus arrived.

The sun slowly crept over the horizon bathing the sky rise with light. His hands were in his trouser pockets. Leaning over the curb he checked to see if the bus was coming.

A sliver of light caught his eyes, momentarily blinding him. He rubbed them until his vision returned right as the bus pulled up to the curb. The doors folded open and he stepped onto the bus making his way past the usuals:  a man who smelled of vodka, an elderly woman who always pulled the bell two stops too early and a man in a hard hat who never seemed to stop eating. He moved to his usual spot by the window adjacent to the emergency exit. He sat down and laid his case on his lap. 

He flipped open the latches and opened the case pulling out a copy of his favorite book, Alice in Wonderland, the book his mother read to him when he was a child. Taking his new reading glasses from his coat pocket he placed them on his nose. He flipped open to his favorite part with his favorite character: the White Rabbit with his well kept vest and his over sized pocket watch, ever vigilant of the concept of time and its consequence. 

The bus jerked forward.

Several blocks later the man in the hard hat rang the bell and exited through the back door. The bus continued on. It took a turn at the next light. The bell rang again and the man who smelled of cheap liquor stumbled his way towards the front door. The bus came to a halt, he belched loudly before departing the bus.

Two blocks another turn and the bus came to an abrupt stop. Alice and all the antics of Wonderland flung from his hands and onto the floor. He leaned forward and picked up the book.

Leaning back in his seat he noticed two men out the window. They were standing next to the twisted metal of a car accident. The bumper of a Taurus was lodged into the bed of a little white pick up truck. The two men shook hands after obtaining each others information. He couldn't make it out, but one of the men pulled something from his coat pocket. He squinted his eyes and realized it was a gun! The man shoots the other at point blank range. His brains like a firework display caught in slow motion paints the sidewalk.