Desperation Procrastination

Colliding with the gravel-covered roof knocked the swear words out of my mouth as I formed them. Slamming into with the exhaust vent finished off what little sense I’d had to start with.

Katy was supposed to be in Louisiana, visiting kin. As long as I was griping about things that were supposed to be, the whole office was supposed to be empty, safe wide open, and security system turned off.

Life ain’t hardly ever what it’s supposed to be.

Before I could get to very much philosophizing and a few moments before I’d really regained my equilibrium the gravel around me started dancing. I could hear the tune being set from the other rooftop, a little 9 mm concerto. There wasn’t much of a beat, but it got me moving.

All the prayers and swears I muttered into that stairwell weren’t going to change the sad truth of the matter. This was going to end badly.

If I could get to the street before them, at least I could put off the bad ending for a little while, a little thing called desperation procrastination.

View this story's 1 comments.