| The Cost of Living
It's a bright afternoon. A man walks along a side-street; the bright winter sun casts his sharp shadow against the pavement. The air was light and silent as the slush muffled the otherwise salient sounds of the city.
He had always liked model trains, and his basement is home to a meticulously built model town. An electronic locomotive circles around it, timed to make the round trip exactly once every five minutes. The track guides the train through hilly model terrain, as it delivers its model goods. Rail guards descend at rail-road crossings, stopping model cars (which weren't moving anyways), to make way for the model train. Equally miniature people stand around, transfixed by the train, and seem cheer it on as it chugs along. Each morning, he leaves the train running when he leaves, and he expects it to welcome him when he returns.
In the past, his mother had always told him that he could do anything, even become president. His teachers in grade school had lauded his abilities, much like how one would revel in winning twenty dollars in the lottery. His boss always said his work was "top notch", but he has yet to get a raise, beyond the cost of living increase.
The man returns home, but the house is eerily silent. The train had derailed sometime while he was out, wiping out several model trees and a few unfortunate model cows grazing nearby; its wheels were still spinning in vain. Gazing upon the wreck, he weeps openly and honestly.
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This is a little short story I wrote on a whim last year, using a literary device I've seen in an episode of Honey and Clover. |