David Shawn McConnell's Blog

The Retirement Gift

Photo by Jeremy Crowther

Story by David Shawn McConnell

 

It was given to him at his retirement party the night they celebrated his forty years of service gathered around his cubicle with a cake and streamers.

The slender box adorned with a silver bow, was expected.

After all, the least the company could do for his dedicated years of service would be to thank him with a wristwatch or expensive fountain pen.

But to his surprise, neither of these items were found inside the gift.

Instead, a single strip of paper. A ticket of sorts.

Printed on its face was his name, a series of lines they scanned at the boarding gate, his seat number, and the cheerful slogan “Jupiter is waiting!” written in small print at the bottom.

Florida is beautiful this time of year, he thought as he thumbed a travel brochure paying little attention to the stewardess over the speaker.

The sun would be a nice change from the winter weather he glared at through the window. He was tired of the cold.

It was true that nothing seemed out of the ordinary to the seasoned traveler until the approaching stewardess fitted him with the glass-shielded helmet and the harness buckled over his shoulders.

His questions only grew more urgent as the nose of the plane pointed straight heavenward and the rocket engine lit up the morning sky.

 

She said nothing

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“…She was stunning. Always had been. My avoidance of her had been so complete that it felt like I was seeing her again for the first time. Maybe it was the passing of the last year or the harshness of the last few days, but the vision of her standing before me was almost more than my soul could take. I was frozen as I took in the dream staring at my resting place.

Her blonde waves of hair rested on her shoulders, trickling past the soft nape of her neck to dance on her delicate back. The evening breeze coerced strands to break away and tickle her nose and play with the thick black eyelashes framing her brilliant green eyes. And the way she would brush the menacing strands and tuck them behind her ears and their silver hoop earrings. The sexy slope of her gentle nose led to perfectly kissable lips. Those lips. I often struggled to describe the sensation of pressing my lips to hers for the first time. It was like kissing butter. Soft. Warm.

. . .She stepped to the edge of the dirt. I could see the engagement ring I gave her on her finger as she tucked another length of hair behind her ear. I was practically pleading for her to say something. How badly I wanted to hear her voice. I could recall the smallest details about her, but her voice was lost to me. But she stood in frustrating silence. She lowered her head as she wiped her eyes with the back of her finger. My heart was tearing. She said nothing.”

 

Dark Soul (available February 2015)

 

Dead and gone?

One day I was dead.

Then I wasn’t.

I looked the same.

My instincts were the same.

But my deodorant no longer worked.

Dark Soul