Moon, Aren't You Lonely Too?

A soft breeze brushed over my scruffy hair as I examined fuji-san's snowline; It looked like one of Katsushika Hokusai's paintings, so sureal. I wonder if it would vaporize if I touched it? Would it fall to pieces and only leave ashes behind? My brain was occupied with needless questions. Such, where there is no answer to, but you ask them just for the sake of it. 

Why does the moon have to leave its righteous half of the broad sky to make space for the sun? How come they can’t coexist?

Tobacco fell from my cigarette and dropped into my coffee mug. That was my last ドリッ�-コー�''ー (Drip Coffe) bag. An annoyed sigh formed on my lips, but quickly vanished. I was too tired to even care about it.

I should shower, eat healthier, quit smoking, and maybe even hit the gym again. Most of all, I should finally go over the applications and find a new job, so I won’t get kicked out of my 200- square-foot apartment by my grumpy landlady.

I would have to beat the aching loneliness first.

I didn’t beat it. But as a first step, I got a job interview.

“So, tell me about your strengths. What do we gain from you in our secretariat?” Classic question. 

“I’m a very organized person and like to plan ahead. I also handle stress very well, you know, I thrive on pressure.” Classic answer. I was lying, of course. I’ve never had either of those skills. 

He scribbled something on his perfectly white paper block, locked eyes with me, and continued. “Where do you see yourself in five years and how…”

I grabbed my phone out of my side pocket. The screen light far too bright. 

“It’s late, 10.34.” I said to myself.

I had just finished my shift, my eyes tired, my back stung more with every movement from the hours of sitting at that cramped desk and listening to people’s trivial issues. “I’m sorry, mister, but I couldn’t care less about your dead plant. You forgot to water it. No, you can’t get a refund.” Is all I wanted to tell them. I sloppily walked across the crosswalk, the traffic light a bright red, blinding my eyes. No one was to be seen far and wide, so I decided to sit down on a narrow bench on the promenade. I popped the cigarette box open. “Only two left." I heard my voice say it with regret. I took one out, lit it, and let my head fall back over the edge of the bench. The moon stared into my face. 

Moon, you are so far away, but you do not hide. 

Moon, you openly show your craters, don’t your imperfections worry you?

Moon, you make everyone look up to you, standing so high, but so solitary. 

“Aren’t you lonely, too?” I didn’t get an answer, but I bet she is too.

Reviews

[emmajoygreen]

I was intrigued by the start of your story then - the way the interview began. But, suddenly, without warming, you are somewhere else and I am left bewildered, without even a touch of an ending. Sad about that because your writing was laid well and promised something worthwhile, Zofia