a true story - chapter three

Chapter Three

work had been long. too long. he wondered what they meant by "long"; and who were "they" anyway? but these were the normal questions. the one question he could not answer was why he did this routine everyday.
it was night again. time for the dodging of twenty somethings in street racers again. the pausing at the light. "a blind man could live the life i live", he thought out loud to the quiet stars too far to hear the noise of the world below. a blind man. what would he do if he went blind? his entire life revolved around interpreting information from computer screens, driving, staring down a viewfinder at a subject. he needed his eyes.
that was one thing that separated him from the blurred, faceless masses. his eyes. his ability to see from his perspective. to look at his wife and know she's beautiful. to frame a person on the confines of a 4 by 6 viewfinder and compose a decent portrait. to guide his hands up and down the black and white puzzle of piano keys. to finish a day at work. his eyes transposed theory into fact.
you could tell him that the sunset was beautiful out but that would never be enough for him. a rush to the window or a dart downstairs would be required to verify that statement. it wasnt because he didnt believe. it was because he needed to experience. no one held his perspective. and his perspective kept telling him that the current routine needed rescue.
leaving his routine bobbing helplessly in it's swamped life raft on a raging sea of procrastination and circumstance , he climbed into his car, dialed in the engine and headed for the commute home. the sunrise would bring another long day.