Amrita

Like Mine

It's a struggle to not think about how pathetic this is. At first, I thought this life would finally give me the sense of freedom I'd been longing for. Turns out it's just a whole lot of restlessness in every sense of the word.

The night always makes my skin tingle with anticipation. I get excited to grab my chance to be with the outside world. For a few minutes, I get to pretend that I'm still normal. I've grown to find comfort in the mundane: the sounds of traffic all around me, the smell of dinner being cooked and served in the restaurants and homes I walk by. But most of all, I enjoyed being around people. It never mattered that some bump into me as they rushed home from work, or yell at me for walking too slow. Just being there with them, to be connected to something, was more than enough to comfort me. For a short while, I forget just how goddamn lonely I am.

The only thing that distracted me from the wonder of it all was the regular intruder that somehow found me. I do my best to shoo away the neighborhood stray that hissed at me like it knew my secret.

"Come on, dude," I plead under my breath. "I know. Just let me get to work, okay?"

I carefully walk past the tiny guy, relieved that he let me through without me having to make a scene. Lucky for me, it was just one tonight. Often, I had to contend with two, or three, or twenty - and that was the most unfortunate. I could never make it past that many without hurting one of them, even if all I'm doing is defending myself. It always makes me feel horrible when that happens. Cats may have stopped liking me, but I still like them.

There was nothing out of the ordinary about my walk to the office that night. Well, I use the term "office" loosely. It was more like a workstation, a place to park myself for a few hours a day, other than my bed. It was a dead-end job, sure. But it's not like I'm particularly motivated to do anything with my long, drawn-out life. The life I lead now is small, and quiet, and content. My job reflects that, and I'm fine with it.

"Hey, you're early," Pharm says, as I walk through the doors, not even getting up from his seat - the same seat I would be occupying for the night.

"Yeah, I got bored. Where's P'Dean?"

"Rounds. He should be back any minute," he says. "I heard P'Pruk is sick. Will you be alright by yourself?"

"I guess."

P'Pruk being sick tonight was news to me. Our agency not sending anyone to replace him was so typical. For some reason, having just one person guarding a five-storey office building for an entire night didn't seem to bother them. Don't worry, I'm not deluded enough to think that they have that much faith in me. I know they're just too cheap to hire someone else, and I'm the one who's going to have to pick up the slack.

"Okay," Pharm says, a bit of worry registering on his face. That guy really wears his heart on his sleeve. I have no idea how he came into this line of work. "Well, get ready then... We'll start logging out when P'Dean gets back."

I shrug my shoulders, not wanting to say anything more. I learned the hard way to keep any sort of relationship to a minimum, just as a precaution. There are just too many uncontrolled variables when someone else gets involved in my life. I don't need the hassle, even if it's someone as sweet as Pharm.

"Oh! Team! You don't have to order in tonight, just eat P'Pruk's share for dinner as your second meal. I made your favorite chicken breast sandwiches tonight."

I told you he was sweet.

I threw Pharm a polite smile as I walked into our common room, which was really just an abnormally large supply closet that they repurposed for us. It was a shithole, but I didn't mind. I intend on doing everything I can to keep this job, including keeping my mouth shut about the plywood that was practically falling off the walls. The pay isn't fantastic, but it's not like I'm doing this for the money. Aside from the occasional rounds and checking of the CCTV cameras, I can pretty much do whatever I want. Plus, having to rest during the daytime gives me the perfect excuse to not engage with the world. It's perfect, at least for me. The only thing I hate about my job, really, is this room.