Stuck with a Punk ✔

No. 34.: Planning

On my way home I get yelled at a lot. But do I care? No. With that ridiculous smile drawn on my face, I look like a creepy character from the Brave New World who has obviously had too much of soma.

I am judged on every step on my way home. If I take a second longer to drive forward when the red light on the traffic light fades away and a green one appears, I become a punching bag. That's not even the funniest or the saddest part, depends on how you take it. Some actually overtake me and normally I would step on that gas just to fuck with them.

But now I don't want to get myself killed before my nephew's birthday.

One of the drivers yells "Who gave you a license!" and speeds on so quickly he almost gets his car knocked over on the next turn.

Wow, it must so suck to be you. Shit.

It's obvious I love my job and since I was promoted I have learnt to hate it as well. But hey, love can't exist without hate, right? Isn't that what they say? This is another love-hate situation. My shift ends in the afternoon which kinda sucks because I'm not the only one heading home and it happens plenty of time I am stuck in a traffic jam. At least female pedestrians head home too and in Boston's summer sun, I see plenty of bare legs in skirts and shorts. A mighty view. A very mighty one indeed.

Isn't it interesting nobody honks at me when a pretty lady walks by?

It's a relief, nonetheless, when I pull my car in a garage and all the noise, smell and annoyance are gone. Not that the garage in itself isn't smelly... There's still no better than feeling than walking in your home and meet the familiar scent of your own blankets and air freshener.

I enter the apartment that doesn't even remind me of my own anymore. So much has changed this year me from six months from the past would rip my balls in half.

I leave my jacket on a stand-alone clothing hangar and nearly step on a wiggling loaf of bread that moves in the corner of my eyes. Of course, it's not actually a bread, otherwise, I'd be hella worried about the products the supermarkets are offering these days.

Annabelle quickly runs from the living room, grinning wildly and singing playfully "Where did you come from! Where did you go!"

I look down at that, as I called it, a wiggling loaf of bread and at the same moment, the loaf of bread looks up at me. Devon looks like he's figuring out his next move, so I take it he's escaping from the redheaded babysitter. With what he does next, that's a very probable theory. At least someone can make him run for the hills! Devon crawls behind that tiny space that's between my legs and the closed front door and starts drooling, as per usual.

At that sight, Annabelle smiles. She stops slightly crouching and straightens up "Oh, hey, Nathan." She tilts her head to the side a bit to see Devon more clearly and smiles "Is Daddy home? It's Daddy!"

"I see you're having fun. By that I mean you are, not him." I turn my head and keep my body still when I check the kid is nowhere close to throwing up all over my legs back there.

Annabelle pulls down the shirt that has started to climb up her belly and slowly revealing it "He's full of energy today. Usually, he just crawls to the toy he'd like to play with next but today he's feeling adventurous!" Her face expression changes from a smile to... well, a different kind of smile "And what's with you? It looks like you're in a good mood."

"Oh, I'm not allowed to feel happy?" I lift both of my brows and try to take my shoes off but Devon makes this task near impossible.

She laughs when I warn her how what she has said sounded and corrects herself "No! I just haven't seen you this happy with yourself for a while. What happened?"