My first short story

A look over the lush green meadows, a drop of sweat was running down his face. “Why the fuck I am I sweating?”, he thought. It was pretty cold, especially for his body, used to the bright sun for most of the year. But still he was sweating. Maybe the room was very stuffy or a secret of his was about to be let out. Now that freaked him out, not that he had many secrets to keep, but the idea of his thoughts being laid out made him feel naked and vulnerable. So, he was a bit reserved usually. That charmed the lady, as far he could remember, SP was a ladies man. They had come in all shapes and sizes, most at best a few chats but a few affairs had been long drawn out and painful. There were the best of them and the worst of them. But none could come close to the one woman who had almost ruined him… “another time to think about her”.

He switched on the T.V, the only break from his monotonic life in the US. How different than he had first thought, here he was at the center of innovation on the planet and he was lost, forlorn and lost. A boob here or there did inspire him somewhat, but that need for a goal consumed him or he wanted it to consume him.

“Why don’t things ever consume me? Maybe its because my talent is very restricted? Not possible, I wouldn’t have gotten to where I have without talent. Maybe upbringing, nah too easy to blame. Will? That funny concept of will? Will to do what is my standard counter to that. There I go round and round., need to think carefully about this”

His wife was staring at him. She was quite young and quite naturally quite restless. He had been extremely excited by the prospect of marriage and so was she, but now his old fears began to creep back. He had managed to maintain his wall around himself, but what did she think of him? What exactly did she want from him? And what should he do with her? Fucking had been good, something he looked forward too. She was good at making conversation too but beyond that what? He was really too fake for her or maybe she was too fake for him. And she had that irritating quality of wanting to know everything.

“What you thinking about? Nothing. Now, don’t lie, how can you not think about anything?”, she smiled playfully. SP stared blankly, this is where he lost track always, was the woman serious or was she kidding him. The standard trick, “ I need to make a presentation, need some ideas” “Oh that’s it?”, the wife was visibly relieved, let me show you some sites that I came across. She yapped and yapped, SP dint get most of it but smiled and congratulated at her brilliance.

“Why the fuck wasn’t I born during the war? Atleast I would gotten the chance to be a hero. Even if I hadn’t really managed to kill anybody I would have had stories to tell, maybe lots of conspiracy theories as well”, SP had a thing for war stories actually. They provided him with the chance to be the hero that he never was. The next 2 hrs was spent thinking what he would have done if he had been a war general. That was another thing that bugged him, he was pretty good at the things that he took up, he just did not take up enough things.

And he thought too much. Now thinking never killed people, but it never got anything done too. And thinking with the dick never did help anyone. Bloody hell, “why the hell I am I so hard on myself?” SP settled with a book. One with short stories, “fuck the idiots who write long novels why would anyone be bothered to read 700 pages of crap?”, he smiled to himself, “atleast I don’t waste time like that”. This book was about a guy who was reading about himself.

A drop of sweat was forming on his forehead.