Something.
He had forgotten. Or maybe he hadn’t, but thought he could still do it in time. Or maybe he had always known it would fail, and the desperate weight of that certainty was what he had been feeling.
He had forgotten. Or maybe he hadn’t, but thought he could still do it in time. Or maybe he had always known it would fail, and the desperate weight of that certainty was what he had been feeling.
His boss had talked to him, in the disappointed
tone of those who had seen it coming miles away. He had failed, not enormously, just rather
humiliatingly. Unsurprisingly.
He felt dejected. His feeling of self-loathing
intensified, but he had no time to lick his wounds. There were more clients to see, more deadlines to make. Always
more.
Always more to do. A never-ending stream of
dull duties and obligations.
And for what? To keep himself alive? And for what?
Work and jobs must be for selfconstrution, and not a burden. When bosses are unpleasant we may look out of the window and enjoy the sky.
ResponderEliminarThen return and think that Sporting will play next sunday, The next patient seens then less red.