Pieces

"Do they get bailout money?"
"Fuck if I know... ask the corporate office..or wait... who gives a damn, money is money." He had this sly smirk. We chatted about the company for awhile before he offered me his card. The plain white card with red lettering said "Jim", and offered a standard telephone number. No email address was provided.
"If you want in, gimme a call." he nodded his head at me as he left the cafe. The other patrons of the coffee joint looked at him curiously. Jim in his three piece suit. Stolen, presumably. Not physically I'm sure, but paid for with illegitimate money. This I was sure of.
I sat in silence as I sipped my water. My mind was a wreck. I didn't know if I was coming or going. Ever since I finished college, my mental scheduling was off. An illegal bank heist was the last thing I needed. But let me start from the beginning.

Prison, a jail cell. Solid bars. No daylight. Much like the corporate world, I thought. These things toyed with my mind as I watched the shadows grow and shrink infront of my cell, day in and day out. The guards always laughed as they walked by my solitary room. I was a big fat joke.
Wait.. wrong place.. i'll get there as well...

College graduation. Caps, gowns, cheap beer. Family and long winded speeches. Everyone had a smile on their face. Was it a real smile? Maybe. We were leaving the best time of our lives. It's a shame we were so happy when our paradise was being stripped away from us. I can remember watching all of the graduates marching like ants, receiving their piece of paper that they worked four long years to get. College was more than that paper. College was a distraction, an oasis.. One with no consequences. Consequences would get to me, as I'm sure you can figure out by reading the above paragraph.
That night I sat on the bench like a retard. The bench that creaked. The lead paint covered bench that sat outside my second story apartment ledge. I sat and kicked my legs like a kid. I had nothing new to do. No deadlines. I didn't know what to do with myself. So i sat and enjoyed the summer wind. I watched the neighbors move out for hours. My buzz was wearing off, I needed to get more vicoden. What a stupid drug though.. a stupid drug for a stupid person I suppose. I went inside and fell asleep on the couch cradling an old egg roll and watching miracle blade infomercials.

I gasped and wheezed. I panted and coughed. Ah, the great outdoors. My shoes were soaked as I ran from the sirens through the half melted snow. Weaving in and out of trees, I finally crouched near a large coniferous tree. The bark was rough on my fingers, but I held on for dear life. I needed to catch my breath. Goddamn I'd gotten fat. I was sure they were still on my trail, but from where, I had no idea. I had really fucked up this time, I was sure of it. This was the nail in my coffin. But that's only if I get caught... but I can't think now... I gotta RUN!

The funeral parlor was your usual mess of emotion and bad energy. Black dress and sorrow. You try to force a smile at a bad joke, but it's only a fake smile. Death has taken over your thoughts. The dark colors all around from the caskets to the floors really pull you down. As if the reaper was gently reminding you that your time is being counted as well. I finally got up the courage to view his body. When I finally looked at the cold body a feeling of anxiety swept over me. This could and should have been me. His face still had a large bloody scratch on it. In a way I felt slightly guilty. If the masses of sobbing people only knew that I was at Trent's right side, and didn't save him, I feel they would be less accepting of me being at this public funeral viewing. I felt bad for Trent, but in a way, i felt he was ready for this. He had given me his secrets. He trusted me to move on toward a destiny he paved for me. I gave his corpse one last look over, before turning and leaving that wretched place. Thanks friend, I won't let you down again. You have my word.