She cheated on me! My wife of seven years cheated on me! At first, she lied. It's amazing the calm I felt when she lied. I wouldn't have expected it.
For the many hours she was away, my heart was a storm of emotions. Even when she finally came home in the early hours of the morning, that storm was still raging, so much so that the mere energy I was giving off scared her. And then she lied, and it was calm.
I knew it was a lie, but I had to believe the lie. My heart became calm, but my brain became active. It began planning for the end. She came clean a week later. Foolish me decided to try to work it out with her. Ultimately it was her and not me that decided to end things. The divorce soon followed. The divorce went amicably, but her moving out did not. In the aftermath, it became the bitter and savage divorce everyone would expect. Apparently, she didn't like the locked doors to the rooms with my stuff, not lifting a finger to help her move things out, or lastly that I did not come to her aid when she feigned an injury in front of me. Her new boyfriend was only a few feet away, it was his job now.
After all the excitement and shock wore off. The new depressing and lonely reality began to set in. Some might turn to booze, but that's not me. Nonetheless, what I did was equally self-destructive. I began missing work, lots and lots of work. I had enough consciousness to request the work off in the appropriate way so that my job itself wasn't in jeopardy, but all the time off was unpaid. It quickly became difficult to pay bills. I wish I could say I rallied my strength at that point and charged back into work, but I didn't. Instead, I dove deeper, bills became harder to pay, so I minimized my presence. A phone doesn't take much energy to run. So quickly it became me, my phone, and my bed, all day, every day, with the rare intermission of dragging myself to the computer in the next room to do just enough work to pay the bills.
This brings me to the day you've been waiting for, the day I died.
It began as any other day. While still in bed, I made all the necessary requests to get the day off work again from my phone. I needed to get some groceries so I said goodbye to my cat, "I'll be back in an hour kitty cat, you be good while I'm gone." I do hope my cat found a new home after my death. He was the best boy. You wouldn't normally think of a cat as cuddly, but he was very cuddly and he became even more so after the divorce. He knew something was wrong and he was doing his best to put it right.
After giving my goodbyes, I walked to the convenience store on shaky legs that hadn't seen physical activity of any sort in at least a week. It was an arduous journey, but I made it to the store, gathered the things I needed, and headed to the checkout.
A TV blared behind the checkout counter, "The presidential candidate once again finds himself embroiled in controversy, in other news, scientists have discovered a new gas seeping out from the ground in Greenland and Antarctica where the ice has thawed away, more at seven"
As I approached the counter the clerk muted the channel, and commented to himself, more than me, "More of the usual drivel. The usual today?"
"Yes sir," I replied in a voice that was much more jovial than I actually felt. The clerk didn't need to hear my troubles. Soon I was checked out and on my way home again, walking up the hill to my house. Then I was dead.
Some of you may suspect Truck-kun. I won't lie to you, there were days I walked right to the edge of the curb and teetered dangerously. I could hear the loud bass system of the truck, rattling windows within a mile radius, some nearly to the point of shattering. I could see the hi-beams pointed straight ahead with additional lights mounted on top, the gigantic tires, and the ridiculous suspension system. I could even hear the sawed-off exhaust through the bass, and see various overly patriotic stickers, right next to various offensive and crude stickers. If I looked closely I could even see the metal balls swaying to and fro, hanging from the truck's now useless tow-hook. The urge to jump in front of this atrocity of a truck would appear in my mind. The urge would appear in my mind as if I had already committed the deed, and then I'd find myself still teetering on the edge of the curb. The call of the void they call it. I call it my brain being stupid. Whether it's the call of the void or the call of stupid brain, I've always resisted the call. I resisted, partially through the desire to live and partially to not give the shit-stain driving the truck the pleasure. So no it was not truck-kun that got me that day. It was much more mundane.
TV makes it seem as if a heart attack is always the most obvious thing. Any character suffering one immediately clutches their chest then says something about their heart, and, if a call to 911 is made shortly, they'll be perfectly fine. In reality, a heart attack can be much more sneaky. For me, I got a sharp pulsating pain in my arm and shoulder. But a lot of me already hurts without any obvious cause. Plus I had already received this pain several times before, then checked my heart rhythm and it was fine. Several false calls lured me into a false sense of security. But it shouldn't be any surprise that after doing my best at imitating an immobile log for months it would lead to a heart attack. After the pain, I pressed on, then, shortly after, there was black, and then there was his ugly, smarmy face.