Not Well is told from the perspective of the reader, where "you" are in the driver's seat. The secret thoughts we all hide when the day doesn't go as expected are brought out of the darkness and into the light. Relationships, jobs, everyday life is exposed in cold truth. Over the course of a five day work week, the reader is pulled down into an insane world of what a person truly feels, thinks, and believes. But what happens when those dark ideas and impulses are embraced and you allow everything to be infected by your darkness? It is humorous, sarcastic, dark, suspenseful and most importantly it reveals the inner demons of us all.
Jamie Curtis Baker writes a bleak truth in this compelling story he materialized from his own personal work experience and relationship interactions.
"Barren limbs sway in the sober winter air like fingers stretching to steal heaven. The wind collaborates with silence to warn of frozen thoughts to come. This is where the bitterness of the bad harvest comes back to haunt the farmer. This is where a simple job like staring at a computer screen in a 6X9 cubicle can put an itch in a man like a bad mosquito bite. You sit at your desk, listening to the drone of fluorescent lights and the buzz of a slow turning computer fan. There's a girl behind you talking on the phone. Mindless chatter. Endless chatter. It makes you feel guilty about not calling your wife more. But that doesn't matter. It's a Monday. It always seems like a Monday in places like this. You haven't moved in well over ten minutes. Your hands sit in your lap and your eyes sit in their sockets. You can sense rather than see your boss, three cubes away, occasionally looking over the top to give you unhappy glances. She wants you working. They always want you working in places like this.
You try to imagine what your boss is like outside of work. What kind of car she drives. What kind of guys she sleeps with. What kind of soul she has. Then you wonder about your own soul. About whether being agnostic even gives you the right to a soul. You try to imagine what your soul would look like. In your mind you visualize a deep grave surrounded by snow. The hole is twice as deep as it should be. At the bottom there's a skeleton smiling back at you with a wide, toothless grin. You don't shiver though. The dead don't feel the cold. It's a gray day; a dark afternoon. Smells like it could rain. Flies buzz around your head like vultures circling road kill. You close your eyes and fall head first down the hole."
|Product dimensions:||8.00(w) x 10.00(h) x 0.12(d)|
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