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A Short Short Story

It wasn’t a special day in any way other than you’d agreed to meet with her. You were out on the road, and it was a particularly warm November day. It didn’t help that the air conditioner in your aging yellow sports car had broken the week before, so you sweated from client to client: drive, greet them, drop off a brochure, answer the same questions, back into the hot black leather interior, and repeat.

When you got home, your clothes were twice soaked, so you peeled them off, then folded them and set them on the floor next to the couch. You slouched on the couch, naked, in front of the air conditioner, watched political talking heads, contemplated a shower, but were too weak to make the move. You thought about canceling, not because it was her, and not because it was a first date, but because generally you are not one to explore on weeknights. Especially after a day like this one. You thought about how you were in the wrong job, but you didn’t know what the right job looked like. The job was wrong because you are an introvert, and introverts gain energy by being alone. Crowds have always depleted you.