Story collection 2

Actually, in moments of great self-reflection, John hated his work. Who

was he kidding? He was doing temp work. No one has ever liked temp
work. It reinforced his feeling of instability, confirmed his cynical view
of the job market, and took him away from the only thing he ever
enjoyed doing, which was writing short stories—I mean painting!
Painting! John enjoyed painting!

I think I have to pee.

And John was a great painter.

Literally every single person on line for the bathroom looks homeless.
Maybe I can just go in and not touch anything. I’ll just lift the seat up
with my shoe.

John often wondered how Steve Bowman from college was having so
much success while John was stuck doing temp work in a futile attempt
to pay back Rebecca’s passive-aggressive parents for a house he hadn’t
even wanted them to buy. And Steve Bowman was a talentless hack who
even admitted to John that he only writes—paints!—so that he can “bag
women.” He actually said “bag women.” But Rebecca thinks he’s
“interesting” and that they could “have a real life together.” I hope they
both die of cancer. What did John have with Rebecca? How was that not
“real”? Maybe if Rebecca’s parents had let John breathe instead of
forcing their hypocritical Christian “values” down his throat every
chance they got, their relationship would have been more “real.” Good
luck, Steve Bowman. I hope you like having a mother-in-law with no
boundaries.

I think I will get another latte. That barista is so sexy. I’d love to pull her
stringy hair while we have sex on my floor.

John would often go to Rebecca and Steve’s new house in the middle of
the night and just stare in their window.
She probably has a back tattoo. So slutty.