Daily Life

He tilted his head, rubbing the droplets of sweat running down the side of his face into the collar of his shirt. The rough grain of the wood was imprinted into the skin of his palms. Lucky had just finished pushing the old, rickety wagon into the barn manually. Strands of his brown hair stuck to his neck and clung onto the moist warmth of his face.
The tractor in which he had placed his faith into helping him with the simple task of putting the wagon back into the barn had suddenly decided to break down on him. Seeing how the tractor wasn't working no matter what he did, and his phone wouldn't bother to load any YouTube tutorials in the crappy country-side internet, Lucky had decided to take matters in his own hands. Quite literally.
The chore was the last for him to do, after herding the cow and sheep back into their respective sheds. A storm was coming, so he couldn't let them laze around the pastures/  as he usually did.
His parents had gone off to a local supply store to buy a replacement for their broken sprinklers, and considering the time they had left- which was sun-up, they probably had ran into traffic that made the long drive out of the countryside even longer. It was now noon- edging the line into sun-down.
          Kicking the manure that stuck onto his boots into dusty dirt and wet grass, he made his way to the front patio of the large house his late grandfather owned. 
Lucky couldn't be bothered to hose down his boots. He had a dull feeling that he would have to walk around in the pastures the next day, depending on how long the up-coming storm would last.
The sky was a dull yellowish-green, reminding him of the city skies he saw as a child.
It wasn't like he yearned to leave the countryside for the city. Even if the world turned upside down, and his mother and father preferred the asphalt grounds over the muddy grass, he would still be stuck in a similar situation.
          Waving to the neighbors who had the luxury of owning a fancy cabin near them.. Absentmindedly..
          Waving to his co-workers who laughed with each other, exchanging thoughtless greetings..
It would have been the same, no matter what sort of world he lived in, no?
With nobody to watch, Lucky kicked off his boots in an almost petulant manner. He sat barefoot on the patio steps.
A pang of loathing took him as he thought, "I must look like a dog, waiting for its owner."
The ominously colored sky above him, thick with clouds of the same hue that made it look like the sky was clear, rumbled with heavy thunder. A thick warm breeze rushed through the trees, only encouraging his unruly hair to even further tangle and stick to his skin. 
He sighed, closing his eyes as he awaited for the oncoming rain to pelt him and dilute his sweat until only cold water remained.

Lucky eventually dragged himself inside, dripping wet with cold rain as he slung a nearby towel over his bare back. He was trembling ever so slightly, with both the cold, and the strain of his day.

Showering.
          Convenience store soap flowed over his body, before being washed away by the unevenly heated water from the shower-head. He stared at the smooth plaster basin of the shower, watching the dirty water swim down the drain until it came out clear.
He only had so much time to scrub off the dirt and stare at himself in the mirror. After all, he still had children to teach at the nearby church. That is what he had his mind pinned on before his phone's loud buzzing broke through his empty thoughts. He wiped off the condensation on the glass screen that the steamy shower he took had caused, but still ended up having to squint his eyes to read the notifications on his lock screen.

     "TORNADO WARNING," the text in the translucent box read.

Considering the warning, the tutoring meet at the church would well have been canceled. But, if you also took in the fact that ninety percent of the disasters that rang on his phone or sirens didn't happen, there was a fifty-fifty chance that there would be students waiting for him at church. He didn't want to risk angering parents by not showing up- besides, it was far too late to send out messages of cancellation..
          And so, that was how our tragic hero came to biking full-speed towards the church. His hair was still wet, and he had a towel tied around his head. Almost cartoonish in its timing, the grim skies above him slammed his face with rain right after the ear shattering noise of thunder. His thighs burnt with the effort of making it to the meet on time with just a mere bike.

Slamming his shoes into the pedals backwards, he braked and narrowly avoided his chance at making a dent in the large, white church doors.
          His disciplined manner of checking the parking lot for any inhabitants wandered as a result of the feverish way he traveled to the building.
The scent of stale carpet and air conditioned walls flew past him as he walked in. The whole room was devoid of light, meaning that nobody came to the meet, unsurprisingly. An eerie siren could be heard ringing in the distance, along with foreign footsteps.
In a haste to look neat and prepared, he stepped back from the door, quickly setting his bag down and balling up the towel behind his back.

     "Welcome to class, I'm glad you could make it.." he trailed off, seeing the boy with a petulant expression in front of him.
It was clear that the child didn't want to attend class. But that was the least of his worries- what parent would be insane enough to bring their child out to class like this, and then neglect to follow up? They didn't even bother to wave before leaving. His brows scrunched up without his own notice. A sigh bubbled up in his chest, then swallowed down with practiced ease.
     Class would once again, commence. Even if it seemed like nobody would come- it was his job to oversee if anybody would.
Like second instinct, once 'class' began, he fell in step with the routine of answering questions, and flipping through papers. He wrote info down on a whiteboard in tandem with correcting papers, and helping those who needed it. Though today, it was much more simple than it would be- considering the attending count of one. The church was silent besides the murmuring of the teacher and his singular pupil. The thunder and shrill screams of the wind echoed inside and out of the building, acting like a precursor of what was fated for him that night.

          Somewhere between the blurred lines of his consciousness in the following next hours, he had gotten incredibly wasted, drinking alone in the kitchen. 
A murky sense of sorrow which was both a clarity and a torture to his mind, snagged onto his false optimism and crushed it right after class.
The crushing weight wasn't an anomaly to him, but blacking out in his bed certainly was. He had only drank perhaps half of the bottle, from the scraps of memories that he could recall. It was only half of the bottle..

          And yet, when his eyes opened after what felt like an eternity, he was met with an uncanny reality of a dream.
     Blinding blue-light which was too bright to be from his phone blinded him when he awakened. Shuffling footsteps were accompanied with mechanic clicks. He laid, almost bare in a stainless steel pan, the sharp cold of the metal seeping through his skin and into his bones. 

Was he dead? That couldn't be right.