(From a One-word Writing Prompt)
I sat at my desk, hot to the bone, sweating in the city’s summer heat, and thought about the weight of the world laying across my shoulders. It was ponderous… and it whined.
People on TV with $200 hair-cuts and $600 shoes talked about how to reduce stress. Old men living on pristine mountaintops talked about ‘getting zen,’ finding inner peace. No one from Jersey City told you how to shift that weight aside… not even for a day… an hour.
So I sit, sweating, at my attic-room desk and wait for this ponderous weight to crush my bones into dust. The only way to deal with stress is to die from it as slowly as possible.