The guy in suit

The man in the suit, always carrying that bag, looking down at me as you bask in the pride of being an independent lad, having something to do, somewhere to go, keeping me guessing what’s up, what’s with you and going out, don’t you like the house. Dear guy in suit always out before my wake, and returning while I sleep, having a function in another location, a function that you claim puts food on your table. Dear guy in suit, making long faces as Monday draws near but making calls while thanking God it’s Friday, but yet, on the two days you claim freedom, I’m guessing it depends on the activities. The man in suit, always behind your laptop pressing something, I, taking a glance, just to discover another one of those scary celled pages. Then once again, other figures related to you in some way shows up, your face brightens up as you take your shirt, you go with them… I don’t expect you back till further notice. Dear man in suit, always with the phone.. the little device that makes you happy while you type on it, pause for a while as you sternly look, thinking of what next to type as though you have a strategy planned out, yet.. only for me to figure out its another human at the end of the line.. no.. another gender.. yes… now I get the thrill… guy in suit… your life so simple, your activities so monotonic…I, wandering how it all goes… how you keep everything together, and then the eventuality hits me… I soon, will be the guy in suit.

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