San Francisco, CA

As we peer along the horizon next to the coast, we see that the sky is cut up with black lines of all shapes and sizes. Coupled formations of patterned bricks, iron, and glass stretch from under the crust to boundless heavens, looming above all that walk the earth. As we glance along Mission Street, we can observe two things: it is raining, and someone is late for work.

Harry Johnson stands erect against the storm, dripping from the endless downpour of rain. Wet, tired, and beaten, he fumbles his way down the colorful sidewalk. His phone is dead, and his wallet is empty. Even his Pebble watch is running on emergency battery, since it hasn’t been charged all week.

Around 21st Street, his bladder had started feeling full, and he could feel a chafing in his loins from his sweaty day-old underwear. Now he is at 14th, rushing to get to 10th, and is wondering to himself whether his inability to find a bathroom was due to being in a rush, or if he just has too much anxiety to deal with strangers right now.

“Happy Tuesday!” a homeless man covered in blankets calls out. Harry tries to ignore it, and then hates himself for doing so. At the very least, he could feel good about feeling bad. If he turned around, maybe he could give the bum his leftover $10 burrito.

Fuck that. He needed that.

He tries to avoid his guilt by changing the topic. If Harry had any sense of spirituality, he could try to comfort himself with thoughts about God or Karma or spiritual oneness, but none of those things mean anything to Harry. Instead, Harry tries to think of old video games, and he smiles to himself.

He even dares to enjoy humming tunelessly, the bastard.

God, he needs to pee so badly. He can’t take his mind off of it; his thoughts were captivated by flowing watery imagery and heavenly singing about release. Words repeat in his head over and over. He wish he lacked the pride to simply find an alley. Pissing his pants in little league was easy, so why worry now? #UnfinishedFlashFiction #RandomWriting