live a long, happy life!

he fell asleep with his upper right arm feeling numb. did it signal an impending heart attack? right before he fell asleep, he wondered, what did it even matter? that is, what would it matter if he died in his sleep? the next day would just be like all the rest, and all the others to come. he'd do his routine, go to work, and come home. it was best to forget about magic and serendipity and good fortune and all that. those types of things were best saved for the chain mails his aunt occasionally sent him via email.

he pitied her, in some ways. he'd get one email after another, and it was more or less the same. the message would say: send this to 8 people, and you'll get a lot of money! send this to twelve people, and you will find love! send this to as many people as you can, and you will live a long, happy life! it was pathetic. the act itself was basically admitting to friends and family that you felt poor, loveless, and hopeless. did people hit reply out of fear, or because they genuinely believe a stupid little email could change their lives?

he wasn't stupid. others might have been stupid, but he wasn't. by god, he was a realist. with a numb arm, he closed his eyes, fully accepting that this might be it, that this might be the last time he gets to close his eyes. but he knew it wasn't over. not yet anyway. he still believed he was being kept alive for some good reason, some strange reason he wasn't sure of yet. a faint part of him thought that maybe, just maybe, he could win, or that he could do something of great importance. he didn't want to, but for one reason another, he still believed in himself.

and yet, he didn't. he awoke, and he did his routine, and he went to work, and it was all just as he imagined it. he was just biding his time. something great had to happen eventually. wasn't that the way it worked? he continued biding his time, barely living out his isolated, mediocre existence. he liked to sleep a lot. he liked to dream. recently, he started relying heavily on his dreams to elicit some sort of emotional response. it was far better than walking through the haze of his reality, everything numb, numb as the arm that didn't signal his impending doom.

it wasn't going to take him just yet.

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