South Shore to Woodside

Darn, he missed his pre-arranged ride; the man caused himself a recurrent setback that early morning. He was distracted by an unexpected clean-up task due to his senior father’s mishap. In Queens, Vukašin anticipated a day-length meeting with hundreds of associates.

He felt his presence was necessary—someone among the hundreds Vukašin fancied to happenstance. It was a drastic decision to fetch the train from the South Shore of Long Island to Woodside. The home health aide would arrive to care for his parents in a few hours. However, he meant to depart earlier; Vukašin couldn’t wait. He hurried to the local station.

The nasal complications were persistent; Vukašin’s nose ran profusely, and despite the precautions and medications, he was embarrassed by it. The mucus intake, either engulfing, holding congestion, or sniffing it deep into his nasal cavity, had created difficulties in his throat and speech. Avoiding onlookers, the man spits it out frequently.

The nostrils dripped more with physical exertion and March’s chilled weather. He must catch that train on time and get on board with zero tissue supply. Let the other commuters behold his nose route like a child. Upon his arrival, the westerly train was announced as delayed, almost doubling the time required for his rush from home, which physically taxed his feet.

Vukašin might enter late at the assembly, and he’d be viewed as disregarding the arrangement. He fretted about the scenario. Nonetheless, he was afforded a break to stop by a nearby coffee shop to obtain napkins with the required brew purchase. Within the hour, Vukašin was on the train to Pennsylvania Station.

Woodside is the stop after Penn Station; gratefully, it was an express train from the Babylon Depot. Vukašin had the option of using the subway to reach his final point. It would’ve saved time and assured his punctuality. Pondering the week’s expenses ahead, he couldn’t allow the metro fare. That is why it was a drastic decision; the commute weighed against his budget. He was among the scantiest of the attendees. The man faced a 22-minute walk from the last stop to his final destination.

The trek could be challenging for a reason. Vukašin has had a lifetime of severe foot problems, including collapsed ankles, flat arches, unstable heels, and reoccurring plantar fasciitis. Concrete pavements weren’t a favorite for strolling. If he quickened his pace on hard surfaces for punctuality’s sake, the foot pressure increased, resulting in injury and soreness. That has happened much inside the ankle of Vukašin’s posterior tibial tendon area. Ignite that part, and the ache lingers for hours. The twenty-two-minute gait may extend to a half-hour. He had to take time. Yet the morning weather warmed, and reflections about the someone special Vukašin yearned to encounter surfaced.

It took less than 20 minutes to see the hall from a few blocks, some more than that period before the meeting started. Once entered, the interior was peerlessly polished with decors and trimmings of an esteemed showplace theater. The main auditorium was filled, and plenty of seating was on the upper-floor balcony. Vukašin greeted familiar associates and received greetings from them and those unknown. The day would favor well until Vukašin noticed his dress slacks.

After Vukašin’s early wake-up, two dark pants hung next to one another in the closet. He snatched the mistaken pair, the older slacks, without wearing his eyeglasses. Those trousers were a dire sight at the close view: deteriorated, discolored, and piling considerably beyond a fabric saver’s rescue.

He gasped and separated himself from where people sat, using the overcoat to cover his horror. After seating, Vukašin concealed the pants with his clipboard, large notebook, and reference book. Once the meeting began, Vukašin strived to focus on the program to depress his distress. The clipboard and other items were slick on his lap, but he maintained them steady. The noon break approached. If he were to associate with individuals during lunchtime, the scruffy slacks would disturb their perceptions.

Following the dismissal, Vukašin darted from the building. He intended to spend away his bank balance by finding a men’s store. Please, let there be one close by with sensible price tags. Instead, the guy discovered a thrift shop and searched the racks to select slacks for his suit jacket, tie, and shirt.

The man reverted to the hall sporting the replacement trousers, which appeared far better than he had intended to wear from his closet. Vukašin calmed his disposition, increasing his ability to digest a simple lunch: a peanut butter and jam bagel and a bottled beverage. After the second half of the meeting had started, he saw someone precious during the program. She was called on stage to be interviewed, and the moment gladdened his heart about investing in the rash commute from the South Shore to Woodside.

The conference concluded. A friend offered Vukašin a ride to his residence. Before the departure, he encountered, complimented, and thanked Ms.—someone distinctive for her testimony—for how the interview encouraged and inspired him. The appealing female among her colleagues was kindly receptive. He was wary of expressing anything else, like his interest in enjoying the repetition of her future presence.

As his companion's auto tires rotated on the expressway, so did Vukašin’s contemplations. Shouldn’t he be hustling as the man did for this day daily to have a contented existence? Of course, the inquiry is, too, for another’s well-being. Make yourself afford it if it’s a gift from above.

That evening, lying on his back, viewing the dark ceiling as the starry universe, Vukašin pledged, “I’ll advance my fortune in life to access an everlasting relationship.”

End