Death Of An Optimist: A Short Story

He had saved up years for the car, yet it sat in his garage for months as he took his older car back and forth to work. The vehicle spent most of its time underneath a brown tarp, like a present forgotten, waiting to be unwrapped.

You get the puppy, you play with it a little, and then train it to be ignored

One weekend, he decided enough was enough and wanted to take the car out for a drive. He didn't have plans for the weekend, but he often never had plans anyway. His friends were always busy or out of town. So, he sat in his house and waited out the weekend until it was time to go back to work again.

But this weekend, he was breaking this routine. The routine was getting old and some fresh air would cheer up his glum mood. Sure, work was boring. But now he had the weekend to himself and he was going to take his dream car for a spin.

He took the scenic route up the coast and found an extended shoulder that had a pristine view of the Pacific. He got out of the car and was welcomed with a nice warm breeze. There was a guardrail that divided the gravel shoulder from the steep open drop into the ocean below.

He stared at the waves for awhile watching them crash against the cliffside beneath. He thought he would be happier now that he was here, but he felt nothing. The scene was beautiful, but something felt like it was missing.

He drove further up the coast until he found a deserted beach where he could get closer to the ocean. He took off his shoes and walked barefoot in the sand until he reached the edge. The sand was cold as his feet sunk slightly in the moist sediment. The waves crawled to his feet before withdrawing back into the ocean. As if they were luring him in.

He drove his car back to his house and covered it in the brown tarp to protect it from the dust circulating inside the garage. He slumped into his recliner and fell asleep.

He quickly awoke to the sound of an alarm clock. Monday morning once again. He quickly got ready and grabbed a protein bar on the way to his old car sitting out on his driveway and made his way to work.

Next weekend, he spend the morning staring at the ceiling above and eventually made his way outside of his bedroom to watch television. His car sat alone in the garage underneath a tarp. Sometimes he wondered why he even bought the car. It used to mean something at some point, but now it meant nothing.

All kids dream and as adults sometimes you reach those dreams. Then you realize the whole thing was a myth. You get the puppy, you play with it a little bit and then you train it to be ignored. All that glitters gets dull and thrown in a falling-apart, moisture-damaged cardboard box and then thrown in the attic to accumulate dust.