He sat on the bench, his body exhausted from the grueling overtime hours he had put in at the machine shop. He had worked there for nine miserable years, and always asked himself why he put up with it. John loved his job, loved being able to create things from a chunk of metal, with precision and detail. He took pride in his work, had done so since he first began training way back when in his army days. His boss was a short Russian man with a dark mustache and beady eyes, and he was the one problem John faced every single day. Lenny had always treated him as though he owned him, never caring if he was hungry, never allowing him to savor the whole lunch break hour that for many is considered to be a holy time used to refuel the mind and body. He looked to his left, knowing that the train wouldn't come for another forty five minutes. He sighed, wishing he had smoked a cigarette before paying his fare for the subway. He closed his eyes, and let his head fall forward, letting his shoulders slump and his chin touch his chest. The tension that had built up in his neck and shoulders over the years seemed to get some relief, but he knew it was only temporary, just an illusion of a chronic nuisance evaporating from his body, like steam from a kettle. His mind began to drift when, all of a sudden, he felt a set of hands wrap around his neck...
(...to be continued.)
Yannis: The Story of a Greek Guy Called John
