Flash Fiction: Back Up the Truck

Pisaries Creator

Oct 30

I'm not even touching my second novel until the new year so enjoy this FF because it's based on a dream I recently had, which seems to be my inspiration lately because I'm not getting it anywhere else.

As I watched from a distance the long semitruck back up within a tight space, I was amazed at the skill of the driver. I assumed it was a male driver and when he got out, my assumption was correct. He was definitely a man with a goatee and green hat on his full head of hair. Most guys I knew wore hats because they were balding but not this one. He had a thickness to his hair that I've seen in a handful of men. The man I was searching for had no face or name. I was on a mission and too bad those closest to me suffered for it. I had recently dumped his ass even though he hadn't done anything wrong to me. In fact, he had done everything right for me by staying by my side when others flew away at the hint of trouble. When I lost in my own swirling decay, it was he who stood at a distance to allow me to heal. When you are given little options to survive, you have to take care of yourself first. His last words were 'there is no I in team' as I walked away from him, giving him both my cold shoulders. I recently had lost my job when the company took the low road instead of the right one. I needed to find a quick replacement for income, but no one wanted to hire me even when I put my best foot forward. All the doors had been closed to me in this small room of opportunity. I had lost all my luggage from my last trip, trying to find success in places I took risks, and ended up with nothing but air in between my fingers. If only I had known what I know now and how I would have used it differently back in the day. Then, my current situation might've been different, better for me and all of us who I once considered my friends. In other words, I had lost much in the past and now I had lost everything without the possibility to get it back. In the emptiness of my heart and blackness of my head, I couldn't see much. My body was in a tight vise grip and my nails were down to the ends. The truck was empty when the doors opened. Nothing but leftover dirt and tiny fibers in the corners. This was something I could control, and the cruelness of this life didn't give me a broom to sweep it away. It left me with garbage and its smell building up in the container. The male driver was gone from the truck. The engine was still on, which meant the keys were still in the ignition. Another male driver hopped in the truck and turned it off. I thought this was a one truck, one man establishment. Instead, it was a one truck, two men operation. People shared in this little sector. I was not taught this way. I wasn't going to start now. I walked away and knew this was the man to answer my questions.