What Reason Do You Need

I felt a steady beat and realized it was my heart. I wasn't filled with nothing. I had something inside of me. I had a heart.

The beat grew stronger and louder until it deafened me. I dropped the gun on the ground and it broke apart, as if it was made of plaster. It wasn't a real gun. It was a pretend gun and I had been shooting pretend bullets.

Everything rushed back to me. I wasn't empty any longer - I had my soul and my dreams and my loneliness and my secrets and my guilt and I was filled to the brim.

"Why?" I asked.

"I don't like Mondays," the man in the gray suit said. "What reason do you need?"

The world twisted and turned and I found myself back in my house. I was standing in front of the television as it blared bad news about tragedy and blood.

"I don't want to go back," I said. "I don't want it to be like it was before."

"Then change," the man in the gray suit said. "There is still time." He took a pocket watch and checked it. "There will always be time."

I turned off the television and sat down. "But what do I do now?" I asked.

But the man in the gray suit was gone. I had asked an empty room in an empty house.

I wandered around the house for a bit before turning on the radio. They were playing the Doris Day version of "Enjoy Yourself (It's Later Than You Think)." And I listened and thought about what I was going to do now.

I was tired and couldn't think of anything to do aside from returning to work, so I decided to go to sleep. Perhaps I'll dream up something to do. I only have the rest of my life to choose.

There's plenty of time.