Jim

Jim stepped out into the mocking sunlight and blinked away at his watering eyes. He paused on the top step of the mill office, indecisive and hesitant. In a stupor he looked down at the square of paper in his hand, staring at it, willing it to change the words that were written on it. Those words sneered up at him; politely condemning his future. They ran through his head over and over until they were seared into his mind:

"We're sorry, but due to current circumstances, we are not able to continue to permit you to work in our facility. We thank you for your time and wish you well in future."

Jim reached into his pocket with his other hand and touched the money they'd given him for the three weeks he'd worked for them. He looked at the paper in his hand and his expression hardened. He crushed the paper between his fingers and threw the lifeless wad into the mud at the foot of the steps. Briskly he stepped over it, his feet sloshing in the fresh mud from the spring shower that morning. Now the sky was clear, with not a cloud to indicate that it had rained at all. The brightness of the day seemed to mock him with its cheerfulness, laughing at him with cleanly rinsed colors of paint on the wooden buildings. The green window shudders on the post office and the baubles in the shop displays watched him go by and he shrugged his shoulders uncomfortably. He trudged along down the street, not heading any direction in particular. He watched his feet and found sympathy in the brown-grey of the dirt road.

A sound broke through his haze and he looked up, not comprehending. He had found his way to the town hall and music and laughter floated out of the open door. He seemed drawn by the joviality of his fellow people. He walked up the steps and stood in the doorway.

Inside, couples twirled around each other, laughing and stumbling as they danced to the lively music. Jim watched them, feeling strange and apart.

"I don't belong here." He thought to himself and he turned away, shutting away out the sound of happiness by turning his back on it. In its place, almost as a sign of Providence, the sound of a train whistle shouted on the distance, announcing its arrival to the little country town.

Jim turned toward the sound, an idea forming in his mind. Hope lighted in his eyes and he almost smiled as he said aloud, "I don't belong here."