Strange Captain

Dawson adjusted himself, sliding sideways, and picking up his books, allowing the man standing in the aisle beside him to sit down.

 As the bus pulled away from the curb he began to feel the familiar melancholy weight of a thousand days spent in a robot repetition of work, sleep, eat, work, sleep, work, eat, slowly pulling him beneath a wave of depression.

 How had it come to this? Where had his life gone wrong? There had to be a different life, a different way to live somewhere out there. He suddenly realized that his life had somehow gotten completely off course; this wasn’t what he wanted. The endless days floating aimlessly in a sea of doubt and self loathing aboard a boat with a captain he no longer knew or understood. It simply had to stop.

 He decided he would take the elevator to the bridge and introduce himself to the stranger at the wheel; he would let this alien captain know that his services were no longer required. He decided that he would take the wheel, check the compass, and make the necessary course corrections. He saw himself standing on the bridge, the blue water of the future shining like diamonds ahead, the dark water of the past churning beneath him, lost in his wake.

 He smiled as he stepped from the bus, the wash of exhaust fumes filling his lungs, the noise of the city and roar of the diesel engine fortifying his need for change.

Captain, allow me to introduce myself.