I won't fill your shoes (short story)

I won't fill your shoes

Waking up to have the empty side of the bed as the first thing to look at when opening my eyes was an indication that the day would be like any other day. But it wasn't. Morning was hopeless as usual, though. As I got out of the bed I remembered I was out of bread and coffee but I had no time to go buy them before work, so I ate an old toast instead. While chewing soft pieces of toast I thought about all the work I had to do during the day, wondering if some clients would accept the contracts, if my boss would be shouting at everybody or just at me and if I would have time to do everything I had to do. It was difficult to swallow that toast, but I finally did it after a sip of water.

I put the plate in the sink with all the other tableware from two days ago, took the first clothes I saw and put them on. I did not care about how I looked anymore, I knew nobody was paying attention to me, so why bother? I didn't even remember when was the last time I bought something that wasn't food. I didn't remember when was the last time I had some time for myself.

In the bathroom I washed my face just with water, trying to clean all my thoughts too, in vain. I looked at the mirror and my reflection looked back at me. I saw grey eyes, no life inside them, I almost didn't recognize them as mine. The spots on my face were getting worse and I felt as I was disappearing, every part that was myself before, now was fading away slowly.Leaving home with an empty stomach and a pale face, I locked the door behind me and with a deep breath I went to work. In the elevator I grabbed my cellphone I sent some working related messages to try to advance some tasks. Still 8 am, already tired and with a headache, I left the building.

Standing at the sidewalk while answering messages I saw drops of water on the screen, I hadn't realized it was raining and I was already very wet, so I took my umbrella out of the purse and went to the bus stop.

It was a strangely cold and wet morning considering the 30 degree average on the rest of the week. As it always happens in Sao Paulo, if it rains the buses are late. 10 minutes and nothing yet. It is funny how people walk faster on rainy days, trying to get to their destination as soon as possible, you see the speed in their eyes. 15 minutes. It is sad to observe homeless people on the street, aimlessly. 20 minutes. A woman on the other side of the street was waiting for the traffic light so she could cross, her red hair caught my attention, but not more than the book she was reading: it was my favorite. It was about this boy named Ed who was the best in basketball in school and all, but he had to stop playing after he got in a accident and lost a leg. It looks like just a sad book, but it's actually very realistic and inspiring. This made me realize that I still had not read a book this year, which was very sad since I had been a bookworm before starting to work on that shitty insurance company.

And then a sound so loud filled my ear and made my heart pound as fast as that runaway bus coming down the street. In one second I saw the bus driver unconscious and in the other my heart stopped with the sound of the crash. The shattered glass seemed to be inside of me, ripping my throat as I could not scream. People around me started to run to the other side of the street to see what happened. People just like to see everything, no matter what. I was motionless and the umbrella fell out of my hand. Paralyzed and getting wet I started to see everything behind rain drops since I was wearing glasses. Lights of ambulances, police and cellphones. It all looked like a moving blurred Monet's painting. But it wasn't beautiful and inspiring, it was terrifying. My feet were walking by themselves and suddenly I was there. With the rim of my shirt I tried to dry my glasses, my hands were shaking.

Her red hair was even redder by all the blood, her eyes were still open, staring at me, no emotion, no nothing. The book by her feet was open, bleeding her blood, she was never going to find out that Ed would die in the last chapter. She was never going to cry at the end of a book again.

Then what I saw made all the shards of glass come out of my throat and I started to cry for the first time in months. She was wearing the same shoes as me. White sneakers, the same brand. I could not believe it, it could have been me there, lying on the street, lifeless. No more books and dreams for her. I almost never wear these shoes and we were wearing the same ones, she was reading my favorite book and it could have been me. If the driver had gone to the other side of the street, my side instead of hers, it could have been me. It is funny how life has all its ''what ifs'' and all could have been different if a little thing was changed. All the time you make choices that change things in your life, and without even noticing small choices turn into bigger ones. And suddenly you are working in a horrible place with awful people, your work becomes the only thing in your life and you do not have time for yourself and your friends. Suddenly you are lonely and living a life you never thought you would live, all your dreams slipping through your hands.

The redhead girl could never read a book again, but I could. She would never choose clothes to wear, but I could. I could still change something. I thought about Ed, the book's main character. He never had his dream come true because he killed himself after losing his leg, he never tried again, he lost all the opportunities he could have had. But I still had my legs, my heart was beating faster than ever, my lungs were filling with the cold air of the morning. I was breathing.

I went out of there and started to run, as fast as I could, all the thoughts I did not have for years were coming to my mind. No working thoughts, but life ones. I wanted to do so many things, I didn't know what exactly, but I would figure them out. I was soaking wet but I ran, even though I did not know where I was running to.