Daytime Daydream (a short story)
I am an ant, not a cool flying ant with strong pincers and a hearty work ethic. I am a run of the mill ant you see crossing the marble in your kitchen, looking desperately for food to bring back to the fucking queen, just hoping my pheromones are enough to lead me back home. Only my queen is a 195 lb shit of a man who sits at home all day playing Fortnite and spends his evenings at a security job that pays him next to nothing, and my pheromones are the dried remanence of a dream I had as a child of a loving husband and two point five children. One day he’ll understand and try to make it work. One day he’ll put down the Miller Lite and pick up a baby naming book to search for the perfect name to continue his legacy of nothing. Or maybe I’ll put down the book and pick up a knife to slit his goddamn throat from ear to ear, only time will tell.
Today is Martin’s birthday, that means there will be some sort of sweet treat in the breakroom at lunch. Martin is the tall, handsome man who sits in the cubicle behind me. He comes in every day, on time, in a sharp suit and tie, it’s my favorite part of the day. I am always at work 20 minutes early just to watch him remove his blazer and gently place it on the backside of his chair, I can see his biceps bulging out from behind his perfectly ironed, white, button-up shirt. “Good morning” he’ll say and flash that beautiful smile of his, it makes me melt inside. “Hey, Martini” I’ll respond and that’ll always make him smile again as he shakes his head at the same stupid joke day after day. I’ve worked at six different places in my entire life, each one of them some form of cubicle job, each one of them with some sort of “Martin”, but this one sits the closest than any of the others. “Happy Birthday, what are you, like, twenty-three now?”
He smiles again at me, “twenty-two actually, and thank you.” He’s half my age, but to a man, that doesn’t matter, in fact, I could teach young Martin a thing or two about how to treat a woman. “I hear Susan brought in cupcakes,” I tell him. “Oh? That sounds nice.” I spin my chair back around and pull my compact out of the desk drawer to check my face, all I see are wrinkles and makeup. It’s what’s on the inside that counts, I tell myself as I place the compact perfectly on my desk so that it shows the back of Martin’s head, you know, just in case he turns to talk to me.
My work is boring, eighty percent of my job is typing numbers into spreadsheets, the other twenty percent is answering calls from people who tell me my numbers were entered incorrectly and there must be some sort of mistake. It’s mind-numbing but it pays the bills. Most days drone on one after the other, the mute beige colors of the walls surrounding me could drive a person insane, but I’m stronger than most people. Sometimes I can see the walls just disappear around me and Martin, and lush island foliage growing up from the carpet. A giant wave of water crests from the back offices and drowns away everything and everyone except him and I. Martin spins in his chair and starts unbuttoning his shirt revealing his gorgeous abs that glisten in the bright sunlight that illuminates from the drab fluorescent lighting in the ceiling. Suddenly we’re laying on a bed, covered in white sheets along the beach as he begins to make love to me to the rhythm of the waves crashing on the sand in front of us. My nails begin scratching the skin on his back deep enough to draw blood in the most pleasurable way, and as I near climax I can hear a ringing coming from the side of the bed, it grows louder and louder. Martin stops thrusting right as I start to feel the waves inside of my body.
“Are you gonna get that?”
I jump a little, back in my chair and grab the receiver from its cradle. “Hello, Benson & Founders, how can I help you? ...No ma’am, the numbers indicate you were not approved at this time ...I’m very sorry this isn’t the outcome you expected ...I can absolutely transfer you to my supervisor, please hold.”
Back to the beige, back to the spreadsheets, back to reality.
At least there are cupcakes soon.
