Untitled – Work Stairwell

I’m standing in the stairwell at work. A little kid is screaming at the top of his lungs. An older – but still young – girl, and a (roughly) three year old boy are standing in the stairwell where I work, and I am trying to smoke my cigarette in peace.

All I can hear is the super-sonic wailing of a toddler, but if this is his mother she doesn’t seem too concerned. She’s more interested in smoking her cigarette and staring blankly at the ground.
It’s illegal to smoke in here, and I can’t even listen for footsteps because this little monster is trying to wake the dead via his vocal chords.

Now he is banging his head against the wall. Is it wrong to hope that he knocks himself out? This chick is in deep thought staring at the dirty ass ground. I wonder if she’s thinking what I’m thinking.

I just noticed she has actually been staring towards the six or more flights of steps that are below us.

Now I really need to know if she’s thinking what I’m thinking. If I was her, I know what I would be thinking if that spawn of the devil banging his head against the wall was my kid.

I want to ask her if she is his mother. And, then, I want to ask her if she is thinking about throwing him down those steps.

That’s probably an awful question to ask a mother.

I’m not so sure, though. Her face is pretty blank, and the ash hanging from her cigarette is quite long. I don’t think she’s smoked more than two drags of the damn thing.

Maybe she is deaf. I know I am close to it at this point. Why isn’t she correcting this tiny, yet loud, noise-making machine?Well, I suppose if stone walls can’t phase him…

I bet a swift kick to the ass down those steps would. There I go again. I’d like to toss her down there for being a negligent mother, but then who’d watch the banshee.

I’m standing in the stairwell at work, illegally smoking the last cigarette I have until I can get a fresh pack. Some bitch and her devil child are keeping me company, and I’m about to go to jail for murder.

I put the cigarette out on the wall, and exit the stairway. As the door shuts behind me, the screaming fades into silence, and I can once again hear my own thoughts.

I wonder if she was thinking what I was thinking.


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