You know, I don't usually do a monologue to myself, but I think I can make an exception today as I wait bored for my work shift to end, with the longing for my tiny apartment always present.
Seriously, why did I have to accept working in an office with hours until seven in the evening? Oh yes, because it was my only option. I should have listened to the advice of "study hard to get a good job," something my mother would say, at least if she were alive to say it, or I hope and imagine she would say it. She could very well be someone who doesn't care about that, but meh, no use dwelling on what could have happened or not.
Anyway, back to the main point, maybe I should stop somewhere on the way home to grab some food. I really don't feel like cooking today, not today. Ah, the boss is coming, -- pretending to work even though there's 2 minutes left -- and he passed by. Carlos should be less rigid; being so serious will make him gray before he's 50, or at least it would if he had any hair. At least he's taking the elevator to leave the building, so I discreetly gather my things, which aren't many, to get out of this dump. Yes, dump and not espelunca, daily, weekly, monthly curiosity, whatever is closest to the last time I did this: spelunca means cave or den or anything that applies to these corporate goblins I work for.
Clocking out, I leave quickly to go to the place where I stay. I skipped the monologue in the elevator since I didn't want anyone getting their hands on my stuff. Anyway, luckily, my apartment is just a few streets away. On the one hand, I'm close to the place I hate; on the other, I've never received a warning for being late or had to take public transport. Small victories in life.
After two streets, I stop at a small burger place. The spot is the front part of a house, with a long white sliding gate out front. As soon as I enter, I come face-to-face with a house featuring an L-shaped porch, some plastic tables and chairs set up for people to sit and eat, with two menus and a square napkin holder on each table. In the right corner, in front of a table, there is a small ball pit for kids to play in. The tiles are square and beige, not very new, and the ceiling is made of worn plaster with visible cracks, but nothing that looks like it would fall. The walls of the place and the house are smooth, painted in a slightly lighter pinkish-brown hue, somewhat faded. I won't go into too many details about the house itself, but it's all on the same level as the rest of the place.
The menu here is surprisingly diverse, offering various types of burgers with the option to add or remove items. The menu is physical, which I like; it has a very basic style, all black with white writing and the occasional image. The menu also has a spiral binding, like a notebook, which is much better in my opinion.
Oh, and while I was doing these descriptions, I grabbed a table for myself and already placed my order. Today, I went with something simple: a regular cheeseburger with an extra burger patty, ham, and bacon. I'm not much of a salad fan.
As I wait for my order, I start to recall a dream that has always been present throughout my life, one I have on random days. It's something strange; it seems quite peaceful, but I always wake up startled and sweaty, like a nightmare when I have it.
The dream is just a landscape. I wake up in a field with tall grass, up to my waist, resembling a savanna, with some small purple and red flowers whose names I don't know. The place is always set at the beginning of a sunset, with purple, pink, blue, and yellow blending in the sky as if they were on a painter's palette. Few clouds mar the sky, but those that are there stretch endlessly, with no clear beginning or end, at least from my perspective. They make the sky's colors blend even more, like colorful cotton candy from some children's park. There is no sound except for the soft, gentle breeze blowing from right to left, lightly stirring the grass and flowers. In the center of this place is a small hill with a tree in the middle. Its roots are somewhat exposed, and its trunk has a mix of dark and light brown in a spiral pattern that always captivates my gaze for a few minutes. Its branches are thin and excessively branching, and its leaves shine in a mix of greenish tones that reflect the soft light the sun emits in the area, creating a unique hue. Moreover, there is always a special and even more striking feature beyond its physical form, but I can't quite describe it. It's as if it glows, not like the leaves or even the sun itself; it's a beautiful, unique glow that also emits a sense of tranquility while simultaneously making me cautious. It's something that can't be fully conveyed by words, but I always get a shiver of tension and wonder as I stare at it.
Describing this dream always makes me think and distracts me more than usual. The food was good, thank you. That's what I say to the owner as I pay. The place doesn't charge much, and the food is genuinely good, which is why I like to eat here, in addition to the benefit of being between my apartment and the ruin of my existence.
As I continue on my way home, I start to wonder when my life became so quiet and dull.