IN: ODD STORIES, #2

By Hank Fredo

The world is a harsh place for Tom— a traveling working class man who has suddenly realizes that his wife doesn't care about him and might be cheating on him. Everything goes from worse and terrible when he tries to cheat on her too. Tom finds that things are not as easy as he expected. And he is left wondering if perhaps, he is the one at fault or there is just something terriblu wrong with women in the city. The experience changes him, makes him the man he never thought he could be, or the monster he'd always been.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Seagull Editions
• Release date: May 18, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223313021

Book preview

Chapter One

My room had a subtle hint of citrus in the air. It’d just been cleaned. The sheets were stretched tight over the bed and the covers folded perfectly. I’d dreaded the possibility of experiencing a lot of dismal situations since I booked the room in a hurry. I hated doing things in a rush—mistakes and their consequences almost always followed. Avoidable mistakes were the worst. They pinched at my nerves, causing more stress.

I dropped my bag on the bed, my shoulder aching from carrying it all the way from the airport and then the cab. The window overlooked much of the city. It was beautiful, almost picturesque. If I was a photographer, I’d pull up my camera for a nice frame. Something to show my wife when I got back home.

The thought of Sarah made me frown. I pushed it away, not because I didn’t miss her, but I wanted to settle down and I knew I’d fixate on her if I dwelled on it. I gave the view one brief glance again, pulling the curtains farther apart. The lowering sun gave some of the city a little brownish gold hue. Beautiful, I whispered as I went to unpack.

I grin when I saw the brown stripe shirt that looked exactly like the one Sarah got me weeks after we started dating. It wasn’t the first time I’d been gifted something like that, but it felt different. Unique. As if she’d made it herself. She laughed through the gift-giving, too shy at first. I remember her hair falling over her face as she handed it to me, golden and curled up. She was beautiful. I’d told her that so many times that I imagined she could close her eyes and see me saying it.

I didn’t pack much. Conferences like the one I came here for didn’t last long. A day or two and we’d all be back home. Back to work; to the normalcy and routine of life. I liked the routine. I knew where I fit in the routine. Out here, I wondered if I was making a mess in my steps or if the world was staring at me. Usually they are.

Unpacking didn’t take long. I had a fixed routine every time I got in a hotel. I’d traveled so many times that it was difficult not to build one. Working involved moving from city to city often, getting hotel rooms and finding the best ways to be comfortable.

I pile up my clothes in the wardrobe, leaving it the way Sarah folded them. I could smell something odd in the wardrobe, probably just the wood or dust. I wiped it as best as I could before putting the clothes in and then I was left with taking a shower or going down for a drink.

I’d read somewhere that a drink opened the soul, especially a tired one. I bet it was written by a drunk—perhaps Bukowski. It didn’t matter though. My routine included opening my soul and that was what I wanted to do. 

I went back to the window after putting away my bag. I checked my phone for messages and cursed when I saw it was switched off. I plugged it in hurried, waited for it to come up. Sarah would be pissed if she messaged or called and couldn’t reach me. I understood the fear, and care. I’d be worried too.

Sweat rolled down my back from stress and the new tightness in my chest. It takes all of five minutes to get the phone on, and then groaned when I saw that there were no messages.

What is she...

I shook my head, avoiding the thoughts that were sure to work their way from that one question. The phone buzzed, an alarm I’d set up before the trip. 

I dropped my phone and went back to the window. There was so much to see. The roof, the lights bright in the deepening darkness. I wondered how many of the lives out there beneath me were as calm, and serene as mine. Then I wondered if mine was.

I could spend all night staring into the unknown pockets of the city spread before me. It felt like watching so many stories all at once. The light in the room blinked and then went off for a moment before coming back on.

Of course, I thought.

I’d expected that something would go wrong anyway. I shrugged. Car honks and some people moving about below caught my eyes. I wasn’t so far up, so I could see people, hear screams if there were any. I stayed like that, comparing this city to mine, the one I’d called home for almost two decades.

There were not much. Unlike Franco said though, the city wasn’t sleepy, but it wasn’t boisterous either. It had colors, and from what I saw on my way to the hotel, it had some amazing looking women.

I chuckled, wondering where I’d heard that said before.

In the bathroom, I washed my face and dried it. I was thirsty, and a little bit hungry. The flight had taken few hours and I’d been one to eat on a flight. The round mirror in the bathroom showed me how tired I was. My eyes were wide and exhausted. My smooth chin was a bit thicker than I remembered and I could see that I’d gotten a little thick in my midsection too. 

The light blinked again and I thought I heard someone cuss in the next room. I looked away from the mirror, unsure about how I felt. There was still no messages from Sarah, which meant she was still angry. I decided to think less about that and immerse myself in the present, in what was happening now.

The phone hadn’t charged much, but I didn’t want to leave it behind. I needed a drink badly—to help stay the thoughts burrowing through my mind and to feel alive again. The exhaustion was pressing down on me and I needed a drink,