A very short eternity

An experiment. A middle-aged man coping with his own death.

Matteus knew it wouldn’t work. He realized this consciously the third time the strange screw with the swedish-sounding name pinged to the floor; but, upon further reflection, realized that he had known it from the very beginning. “This won’t work”, he said to the screw, picking it from the floor again and pushing it dejectedly at the space in which it was meant to go. On the instructions, stained with coffee and floor grime, a black arrow pointed to a sleek diagram of a cabinet. A square with the number five beside it showed a close-up of a joint, and the words: INSERT POSIDRIV SCREWS IN BOTH SLOTS. TIGHTEN. This had seemed simple enough. Indeed, the attractive young saleslady had assured him (smiling with those astonishingly perfect teeth) that it was so simple, “anyone could do it”. This was proving to be the opposite of true. 

As the inevitable frustration temporarily overcame his forty-three years of practiced apathy, Matteus hurled the screw in the general direction of the wall. It pinged off, trailing motes of drywall, and with almost deliberate malice came flying back at the man, hitting him square in the chest. 

This would not have been a problem were it not for the condition of his heart.

MAN FOUND DEAD said an article in the newspaper the next morning, crammed on page 5 between CITY TO EXPAND HIGHWAY and a personal advertisement promising "a night of pleasure". 


The End

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