By: Sunrise Fiction

Paul was asleep. He looked calm. The rain hammered heavily against the side of his house. A quick gust of wind blew a few rain drops through the open bedroom window onto Paul’s sleeping face. Paul sniffled his nose and turned over to his left side.

He slowly opened his right eye and looked at an old, digital alarm clock that stood on his nightstand. The corner of his pillow blocked his view. Annoyed but feeling too weak to do anything about it, Paul closed his eye, dosed off for a few moments. Then, he opened both eyes and pulled himself up.

He stretched his hands, yawned without bothering to cover his mouth, and glanced at the alarm clock again:

8:30 a.m.

Paul’s eye pupils expanded as the shock of adrenaline flooded his tensing muscles. He felt the hairs on his neck and arms rise, as his chest cavity tightened and air left his lungs. Paul stomach began to churn and he felt nauseous. He started to cough.

He was incredibly late.

Like a tiger, Paul jumped from his bed, sending the comforter and bed sheets flying. He rushed across his bedroom, ripping open the drawers of his worn-out, wooden dresser. He whipped out his socks and underwear and, while changing his undergarments, skipped one leg at a time to the dress closet.

Once he got to the dress closet, Paul flung open the door and yanked out his recently cleaned, second-hand, black dress pants, white dress shirt, suit jacket, and tie. The clothes hangers bent underneath the pressure and snapped, raining plastic in all directions.

Formal clothing in-hand, Paul rushed to sit down on his bed, but just as he turned, he slipped on his pajamas. Flailing his arms and feeling the loss of friction under his feet, he braced for impact. His buttocks and lower back slammed into the wooden floor, followed by his back, his shoulders, and back of his head.

Paul laid on the floor, shocked and dizzy, sucking air heavily. The ceiling spun slowly above his head. The pain receptors in his body spamming pain signals. After a few seconds, Paul remembered where he was and as his whole body ached, Paul flipped over and reached for his bed. He grasped the bed frames with both hands and summoning all of his strength, pulled himself unto the bed.

Wincing from the pain, Paul put on his dress clothing, limped out of his bedroom, through the hall, and down steep staircase to the entrance. His stomach rumbled and his frowned, and Paul bit his upper lip, angry that he did not have enough time to eat. He pushed his feet into his only pair of well-worn dress shoes, grabbed his keys from the counter top and opened the door.

Outside was pouring rain. The entire front lawn of house was flooded with water.

Paul shook his head, sighed, and stepped out. His feet became entirely soaked as he slogged down the now-flooded, unseen gravel path from the front door to the driveway. Finally, he got into his car and looked at the dashboard clock.

8:45 a.m.

Paul angrily elbowed the car door. He turned the ignition key, shifted gears, and pulled out of the driveway. His shoe squooshed and squeaked as he pressed the car pedals. The car’s suspension creaked as he swirled down the road, doing his best to avoid submerged potholes.

As Paul drove unto the highway ramp, his worst fear came true. Stretched out in front of him was a mile-long line of glowing red, rear headlights. The sound of blaring air horns, roaring engines, and churning water filled the air. Paul fought through the traffic, merged unto the highway, and joined the crawling automobile centipede.

His inner voice nagged and ground him. Why did you wake up late? Why did you slip? Why did you not eat breakfast?..Shithead. He could not shake the feeling that he forgot something at home. Then he gasped and slapped his forehead. His portfolio, of course! He left on his desk! Paul gripped the steering wheel so hard his knuckles turned white. He wanted to tear the steering wheel off the car. Breathing out slowly, he let the moment pass.

He though about turning around and heading back home to get his portfolio. However, he was stuck deep in traffic and going back would make him arrive even later. But going without his portfolio was pointless.

Then, he thought of an idea. He will call the people and say that he was running “slightly” late. The weather is horrible. The traffic is terrible. There is an accident on the highway. Yeah, that’s it! That’s exactly why the road is so congested. But. But, he will be there as soon as possible. That would even buy him enough time to go back home and get his portfolio.

Paul reached for his pants pocket to take out his cell phone but did not feel it there. He patted the other pant pocket but did not feel it there either. He began to frisk his soaked suit and even stuffed his hand underneath his rear. Maybe he, by accident, sat down on it?

Nothing.

Paul’s eyes grew to the size of the moon. Forgetting that he was in the middle of the highway, he let go of the steering wheel and started to ransack the small pile of his belongings that accumulated on the front passenger seat. Nothing. He started plunging his palms between the nooks and crannies of his driver’s seat, praying that his cell phone simply slipped out of his pocket. Nothing again. Worst still, he realized he could not find his wallet either.

Sadness swept over Paul. He thought about the opportunity that slipped from him. Bills were piling up and money did not grow on trees. He needed this opportunity. He saw his father’s stern face hovering over him, the frown lines clearly showing impatience and frustration. The face shook its head and rolled its eyes.

“No, father! Its not the same, again!” Paul wanted to scream, “This is not my fault!”

Paul felt his chest constrict. He grew nauseous and began to gag. His skin felt dry and itchy. Paul’s vision blurred as his eyes swelled and filled with tears. His seat-belt began to constrict Paul like a snake and as he desperately clawed at it felt only tighter and tighter.

A long, monstrous blare of a car horn snapped Paul back to reality. He looked around and saw that his car drifted into the lane over and a heavy semi-trailer truck was speeding at him. Scared, Paul grabbed the steering wheel and heavily overcompensated to quickly get out of the way. More car horns blared but he did not care. He barely got out of the way just as the truck angrily barreled past his car.

Paul’s hands shook and his body felt like a wet noodle. He realized that he was holding his breath. He breathed out slowly and looked at the dashboard clock.

9:20 a.m.

As he looked at the time, Paul only felt numbness. His chest and stomach no longer hurt and he could breath again.

He decided to keep driving to the appointment and stop looking at the clock. He made up his mind that when he arrives, he will apologize profusely and try to explain everything. He would promise to be punctual from this day onward.

In the sky, through the thick, gray rain clouds, Paul saw a thin ray of sunlight. Then, in a moment, the whole highway illuminated in a bright light. The asphalt reflected like a mirror and cars sparkled like bright pebbles on the beach. The traffic disappeared and cars sped up. Paul floored the gas pedal, and the car, coughing and grunting, sped up. He saw the highway exit, quickly turned, and was soon at his destination.

Paul skipped out of his car and raced to the building. As he entered, he caught his reflection in the glass door. His hair was disheveled and his suit jacket was wrinkled and wet. His dress shoes squeaked as he walked.

He shrugged and approached the reception desk.

“May I help you?” The receptionist looked Paul.

“Yes”, Paul stammered, “I have an appointment today. For 9 o’clock.” He matted down his dampened hair.

“Name?”

“Paul Stevenson.”

The receptionist typed away on the computer.

“Mr. Stevenson. You have an appointment tomorrow at 9 a.m. Are you sure your appointment is today?”

“Tomorrow?”

“Yes, sir. Tomorrow.”

Paul leaned against the reception desk, closed his eyes, and breathed out. He felt his body grow weak but just then, bright sun rays poured into the lobby and a pleasant zephyr lifted him up. He felt warm, sunny rays caress his face as he smelled the fresh sea breeze.

“Pardon me, sir. Do you still want me to notify them that you arrived?” The receptionist asked.

“No, that’s alright.” Paul said and the zephyr carried him out of the building on a fluffy, white cloud.