Your fate is sealed. Your working days are over. What do you do with your time? Pilates? Workouts? Yoga? Swimming? Or do you gorge on your favorite foods? Flash fiction by Timia Breederveld.
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Twenty-four hours a day …
I am dying. There you have it. In a nutshell: a malignant brain tumor, two months tops — if I’m lucky. Don’t worry; I’m not going to bore you with the details. My fate is sealed, and there’s nothing I can do about it. Death has always fascinated me, and I’m not afraid or concerned about it. To be honest, I’d like it to happen sooner rather than later.
Eight hours a day …
My boss sent me home on sick leave as soon as he heard the news. A bit of a problem because I’m a workaholic. No one in their right mind will hire me now. My working days are over.
One hour a day …
I used to spend a lot of time shopping. What good is that now? I have enough clothes and shoes to last me five lifetimes. I like black, so no need to shop for my own cremation, either. Shopping is over and done with.
One hour a day …
Pilates, running, workouts, yoga, swimming, you name it, I did it. All to improve my health. Can’t say I miss it.
One hour a day …
Food. Now, there’s a topic. I can eat everything I want. No worries about health, diets, getting fat, pimples, a belly, having to buy bigger clothes, or feeling bad about it. But how much can you stuff into yourself in a day, in a week, in maybe a month? Believe me, I tried, with many hours on my toilet as a result.
Two hours a day …
My narcissistic boyfriend left me the day I came from the doctor’s office and traded me in for a similar, environmentally friendly model in an equal price range in less than twenty-four hours. I like having a man around me, but dating is not an option. Imagine that conversation.
Two hours a day …
I am easily addicted to television series. Could you stand the thought of missing the last few episodes? And what about next season?
One hour a day …
Making new friends on the internet? Searching for information? No need for that. “One thousand things to do when you are bored”? Unless you like learning how to decipher hieroglyphs, act like a spy, or try not to think about penguins, it’s a waste of time.
One hour a day …
How much “How are you feeling? Is everything okay? Are you coping all right?” and about three hundred and six variations on these sentences can a person take? The family and friends who are brave enough to stick around mean well but bore me to death.
One hour a day …
I used to read a book before I went to sleep. But since I can drop dead any minute, I stopped doing that. I loved endings the most.
Zero hours a day …
Yes, I also have a bucket list. The thing is, if I really wanted to do the activities on it, I would have done them already.
Six hours a day …
I sleep, and frankly, I hope I won’t wake up.
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Timia Breederveld was born in the Netherlands and lives in Egypt, where she makes underwater films and writes. Her short stories are inspired by daily life and surrealism. Be sure to read her flash fiction “How to Put Out a Fire.” Her short story “Strings” appeared in Text.
You can find her at TimiaBreederveld.nl.
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Powerful stuff, great pace, not sentimental, what a combination!
Thank you Shirley!