Sorry for not caring, Marcey.

He scoffed.

Marcey thought he had a problem. A big problem. He agreed with her assessment. Just not her solution.

The coffee warmed his belly and gave him an instant jolt of energy.

“I love you too,” He said to Marcey. “And I understand your concerns.”

He would probably need another cup after his conversation with Marcey, he thought. Another cup would make sense especially since he had a full eight hours of packing old files and office junk into boxes. And checking his official statement of work to see if mover and janitor was included in his job description.

“I just want you to have money,” Marcey said.

He cut his eyes.

There she goes again, he thought. If only she had to deal with what he had to deal with for eight hours a day. On a daily basis.

“They’re gonna fire you,” Marcey said.

“You’re more anxious than I am,” He said.

“And that’s the problem,” Marcel said.

“Sorry, I just don’t care,” He replied. “I can’t anymore. Just too tired to care.”

He was truly sorry. Just being honest with her. He didn’t care nearly as much about his job as she did. Marcey was afraid he would end up broke and unhappy. Funny… He worked a full nine to five gig and he was still broke and unhappy. He was more afraid and sad about the time he was losing working a meaningless job. Photocopying and mailing packages wasn’t exactly worth his precious time on the earth. He thought Marcey  was only concerned over whether he would pay bills and that concerned him the most. It concerned him even more than getting fired for being late. Yet again.

“You’re always late to work,” Marcey said. “If you were my employee I’d fire you.”

“Bet you would,” He replied.

“Try to be on time,” Marcey replied. “Please?”

“Okay,” He said.

“Force yourself to care,” Marcey insisted.

“Fine,” He replied. “I’ll do better next week.”

Doing better at a place -his nine to five- he couldn’t possibly care less about was a lot in which to ask. A insurmountable request to fulfill.

But Marcey was giving him those sad eyes. Not bossy or threatening eyes like when he forgot to clean egg of the stove or refill the water jug. Genuinely sad, concerned, caring eyes. Those eyes were trouble. The most damning of all the eyes.

The eyes he could neither ignore or defy.

He cut his eyes. Again.

That time he cut his eyes at himself for submitting to her sad eyes yet again.

“I’ll set my alarm earlier,” He said.

“Good,” Marcey said.

“Good,” He said.

And he set his alarm at that very moment.

He would set the alarm an hour early before he forgot or lost interest, he thought.



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