“Hello and good Sunday,” I smile as I enter the bakery. Home delivery is only for weekdays. I deliberately made a point to drive out of my way to see Bakerman today. I am adamant on showing him a happy face. I feel like an elephant in the room apparently and decide to throw in some small talk before placing my order.
“So what about becoming an online or offline English teacher?” I ask him. I have been researching other possibilities for generating more income. Still haven’t given up on this idea. “It’s a bit of extra income but really only a third of my normal hourly rate plus I would need a certificate. What do you think? Pursue or not? Do you charge for your Sunday English conversations?”
“I don’t know if you should pursue it,” Bakerman evades to make a decision in my place. “Celta certificate costs 1.700 Dollars I think. Last I heard 12 Euros an hour was the going rate.”
“Hmmm no,” I think out loud eyeing up the chocolate muffins and eclairs. “Not worth it at all.”
Depression has this way of making life look like a black seething mass of storm clouds clustered over your head keeping daylight out and darkness in. Each room of your mind is creaking under the pressure of keeping you contained when every corner is filled to bursting with anxiety. You feel your very foundations heaving and your windows are splintering. Even the roof may blow off any second.
Yet I managed to keep it together. Going around town as if all is normal. Realizing my worries are insignificant. As the ant is to the town, so am I in the eyes of the universe.
* Disclaimer : Any resemblance between the fictional characters in this story and any persons, living or dead, is a miracle by chance more than by choice.