Day 77

Writing exercise

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He had dropped off the kids. filled up the tank and finished his coffee before deciding where he was headed.

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Ever wondered what it would be like to just do something out of the ordinary?

At what point did you realise just how much of a rut your life had fallen into?

These questions were foremost in Geoff’s mind as he sat at the bar of the diner on the edge of town, a place where he came every morning after dropping the children off at school.

Every morning except school and gazetted holidays. Without fail. Rain, hail or shine. In sickness and in health.

He sighed. When did it all go kaput? Life, marriage, work, everything.

Sybil refilled the cup with fresh coffee. “Another day, another million dollars?” Geoff had sat in that same chair every school day for the last three years, ordered the same coffee and cake, and said the same opening line and second response.

It was like talking to a robot.

“Yep. As if.”

And sipped the coffee, then said, “Excellent brew, Sybil.”

To which she replied, with the same amond of disdain, “It’s made by a machine, Geoff, it’s always going to be the same.” And moved on to the next customer, Dave, the truck driver. He needed three cups of coffee before the delivery run.

Geoff sipped the coffee, looked over the rim of the cup, and watched Hank, the short order chef throwing a burger, bacon, two eggs and tomato on the grill and watching it sizzle. Someone had ordered an overload of cholesterol.

He looked around the diner and saw the man sitting in a booth in the corner. Driving all night, he’d stopped off to refresh before continuing on his way to somewhere else, anywhere but here. Sybil was refilling his cup with the freshly brewed coffee.

Always keeping busy.

Another car pulled into the car park. A man and a woman. Smiling, happy. Of course, they were not staying here. They were moving on, going to somewhere else. Not in a rut.

Geoff knew life was a matter of choices. He made a bad choice. He thought it was the right choice, but in the end, it destroyed everything. He thought he was doing the right thing and allowed himself to be convinced it was.

In the end, the prosecutor’s case failed on a technicality, and the man he testified against was acquitted and vowed he would kill him. it was how he finished up in Grey’s Well, Montana, in the middle of nowhere, in a dead-end boring job, with a continually complaining wife and two very unhappy children.

All he had to do was get in the car and drive. North, south, east, or west, it didn’t matter. Anywhere but here. Away from the nagging and whinging. Away from the boredom of a job he hated. Even death would be better than this.

All it would take was to get off the stool, turn around, walk out the door, get in the car, and drive.

It was the same thought, every morning, after finishing that second refill.

He slid off the stool.

He turned around.

He started walking towards the door.

One step, two steps.

He stopped. To the left, there was the smiling man. To the right, there was the smiling woman. He had not seen them enter the diner and move towards where he was sitting. how could he, he had his back to the door.

He went to say hello but instead felt the knife penetrate the skin on his right side and suddenly feel very tired, and the two visitors helped him back onto his stool.

By the time he was sitting, they were leaving, and Sybil was coming back.

“Are you alright, Geoff?” She was shaking his shoulder.

He couldn’t hear her, or the sound of the car that had recently arrived speed off.

Geoff slid off the stool and was dead before he hit the floor. That was different.

Sybil screamed.

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©  Charles Heath  2025