Vasicek: 'One Day'

One Day
R.G. Vasicek

One day I just left. I had nowhere to go. I kept walking. It was exhilarating. It was terrifying. I should have checked the weather first. It was nine degrees Fahrenheit. My jacket was subpar. The gray knit hat was a little ridiculous. Nevertheless, I was outside. I'd forgotten how refreshing. Air. Wind. Hello.

I could read my breath. Like I wanted to say everything at once. There were not enough particles. It was a frozen cosmic scream. Yes. Heading to Saturn's big moon.

I suspect I am built to swim a methane sea. If you follow the thought line. Like a big tadpole.

Anyway I was doing a thing. Perhaps I was training for cold. Damn, it was cold. Single-digit. Nine degrees! Exclamation point. That is in order. I almost started swearing. Thinking it might warm me up. But I gave up strong language for Lent.

I kept walking. Something compelled me. There is no word. Some thing. Or not thing. The cold kept barking. It sounded like dogs. Perhaps it was dogs. Chained up in some yard. Nine degrees fahrenheit. That's people for you.

Master and servant. The whole economy. Capitalism. I could no longer participate. Enough was enough. I would show them. Whoever they were. I kept walking. I kept thinking. Walk think.

People at stoplights. In gasoline-powered cars. I waved. Yes, yes, burn your fuels. I crossed at the walks. I scissor-kicked. Sidestepped. Traversed. Everything seemed to be going according to plan. What plan. But yes.

The country was bigger than I had been thinking. You just have to walk around. Which is what I was doing. Nobody said anything. Nobody said, What is this? What are you doing? I felt like they couldn't say that. I felt like they couldn't think that.

Good. I felt good. Things kept getting better and better. The walk, I mean. Once you get in the groove, you can go anywhere. Anyplace. I entered a shoe store. Warmed my hands for a time. Incredible shoes you have here, I said. Thank you, the salesgirl said. I flashed two thumbs up. You need gloves, the salesgirl said. I do, I said. So ended our human encounter. Amazing when I reflected.

I had to keep moving. Legs pumping. Buttocks engaged. Get somewhere. Nowhere. Get. I removed my wristwatch. I had an opinion of time. My opinion of time was not high. I tried to give the watch away to a passerby. A jogger. She refused. Can you blame her? I left the watch on a bench. Set the alarm for nobody.

I watched the watch from a distance. Nothing happened.

My socks were not warm enough. I needed new socks. I thought about the shoe store. The salesgirl. She probably sold socks. But then I thought, no. Don't go back.

I tried to warm up in a tunnel. That was a mistake. A man tried to beat me up. Take my wallet. I fought him with scissor-kicks. He chased me. I ran. He gave up. Huffing and puffing. I almost wanted to circle back and apologize.

I kept walking. Thoughts swirled. Spiraled. I was a thinker. A cosmic thinker. That was my problem. My salvation. People said it would get me into trouble. They were right. I was glad. I could not pretend anymore. I had to leave.

One day I just left.

R.G. Vasicek, the son of Czech defectors, was born in Austria. He has work in or coming from Gargoyle, Barrelhouse, Mid-American Review, Western Humanities Review and others.

Read his postcard.