I could have lied I’m such a fool
My eyes could never never never
Keep their cool
He stared incredulously at the piece of paper in his hand, then he looked up at the screen in front of him.
He had done this repeatedly, easily over two dozen times. After initial disbelief, elation set in, followed closely by a sense of dread. Every time he looked, the same range of emotions overtook him.
He never stopped to wonder why those emotions did not occur in the reverse order.
Ok, he thought, you’ve planned for this. Well, perhaps planned is a poor word. Dreamt? Yeah, let’s go with that one. You’ve dreamt about this on countless nights. In that small subset of consciousness, right before sleep would inevitably take over, you made plans for what you would do should this ever happen. They were set in stone, dammit!
But it turns out that stone in the land that falls between alertness and repose is nothing more than the dust of the previous night’s forgotten dreams.
One last time, he checked the numbers on the screen versus those on the paper.
32-16-19-57-34 with 13 off to the side.
There was no denying it. The screen and paper matched. And he could not even think of what step 1 should be. But he did know that he had a visceral urge to tell someone. No, he didn’t want to yell it from the rooftops, but felt he couldn’t be stingy with this good news.
He picked up his phone and scrolled through his contact list. Holy shit, he thought, that is a lot of people. A lot of people I never really talk to, that is. A few names stood out to him, all for different reasons. But after performing the inner debate about whether to tell someone or not, he chose to keep it to himself for the time being.
There was one name in the contact list that would have been a no-brainer to call were it not impossible to do so. In fact, knowing that he couldn’t most likely swayed him from telling anyone.
But that urge, man. It is strong.
He set down his phone and closed the browser window on his laptop. He lit a cigarette and slowly exhaled, trying to slow down his mind. Random thoughts and phrases kept coming at breakneck speed, however, until one finally stuck.
He knew what he could do.
He opened a program on his computer, bringing up a screen with nothing but a blank document. He started typing, and not slowly, thus necessitating the use of his backspace key countless times. But he still managed to keep up with his thoughts, getting them all down in Lucinda Sans Unicode font.
And that is how he, on the best and worst day of his life, spent the next 45 minutes.
No one will ever see this, he thought. It’s just a long forgotten blog.