on the main street

The room is eerily quiet except for the occasional motorcycle that screams across the main street twenty floors below. Outside the panoramic windows, lights are still turned on inside several offices.

He is sitting on the sofa with a thick bathrobe that is not his. His suit is nearly hung in the closet. He turns on the TV and flips through each channel. He turns it off. He closes his eyes for a while, then, opens them again. Tonight, he is not sleepy.

He walks inside into the unfamiliar bathroom. The bathtub is as big as his bed. Nothing of his is on the basin, just things put in neat grey boxes, from toothbrush to showering cap.

He looks into the mirror. He is 40, finally high enough in the corporate ranks to deserve a suite and business class. He is halfway around the world while his child is growing up and his wife slowly distancing herself from him. He knows nothing else except what his company needs of him. His eye bags are deep, grey and wrinkled, his face unkempt.

Alas, what has he become?

On tiring nights, all of us are bound to fall asleep. What are we to do on an awake night? The silence and the darkness makes us peer into parts of ourselves that is concealed in the hustle and bustle of the day. What do you see in the mirror? I don’t want to be a corporate sell out and look into myself in the mirror that way. I don’t want to wake up one day and realize the worth of 20 year’s of my youth. Nill.


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