Her life ran a predictable path of mostly mundane events: drive there, deliver this, return to home, clean up messes, drive, retrieve, drive.
Every day ran round to the next. Every day ran much the same.
At nearly midlife, she had an epiphany: maybe everyone’s life is mostly mundane.
She shrugged, and continued loading groceries into her car.
He knew the aliens were gonna get him soon. They’d left signs of their intent everywhere.
“Aha!” he said, pointing to broken bathroom tiles.
“There!” The side of his trailer bore a suspicious gash.
“Struck again!” he told his fellow truckers. Part of his load had spoiled; “Dern aliens” interfered with the refrigeration.
“I knew it!” he finally exclaimed, holding his pink slip. Reasons for dismissal? Damages to a rest stop restroom, damages to company property, and damages to merchandise.
“I’ll get you yet,” he mumbled, startling a passerby.
©2020 Chelsea Owens