Short story: Escape from Reality

Every day repeats like a monotonous echo. Crime rates grow relentlessly, like invasive weeds in a neglected garden. Inflation, like a voracious parasite, devours the salaries of the common people. Businesses close their doors, and only a few hold on, struggling to stay on their feet as they lay off their workers.

Society crumbles, and the government seems to look the other way, as if the chaos were invisible. The streets burn with violent protests, and distrust of corrupt politicians has become a muffled cry that echoes from every corner.

I, barely a castaway in this shipwreck, search tirelessly for work. But the answers are always the same: "There are no vacancies." In my forties, I feel that the world has changed drastically. Technology advances relentlessly, leaving entire professions behind, like fossils in a digital world.

I dream of a better tomorrow, though hope fades. I long to escape, to leave behind this oppressive reality. I want to disconnect from the usual, to lose myself in solitude where there are no judgments or inquisitive glances.

As I write these lines in my notebook, the aroma of fried chicken mixes with the ink. Salt and garlic are my only condiments, and the fridge, an empty abyss. The cold light from the window spreads across the room, and I wonder if something, at some point, will appear inside.

The pressure in my head eases a little. Tomorrow will be another day, another challenge. The end is near, I feel it in the air. It's only a matter of time before it all explodes.

I'll close my eyes and dive into dreams. There, in that untethered world, I'll find relief. The sheet of my bed will be my only refuge, and maybe, just maybe, my dreams will not betray me.

Source of the images.

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