Prologue

They say a life of maybe is a life of never.

"Maybe tomorrow will be better. Maybe they'll appreciate me. Maybe I should just quit. Maybe an asteroid will hit the office"

For years this was the rhythm of Damien's existence. And, when every day blurs into the next, life loses its colors - first slowly, then all at once.

Work. Work. Work. Work. Work.

What is money good for if you barely have enough to scrape by? If you are too tired to hang out with your friends, read a book or play videogames?

Damien woke up again. Like every morning, he got up despite the weight crushing his chest. He suppressed the need to tell his boss to fuck off, the need to stay in bed and be a slob like the good old days and took a shower. Another grey morning. No colors, no way out. 

"No more of this...I just want it to end..."

He began scrolling reels, mindlessly. Almost a ritual to temporarily dispel the shadow of the office.

"A life of maybe is a life of never"

A mildly annoying, ostentatiously opulent influencer was giving a shallow speech. His eyes dull, as if they were never livened by a glimmer of intelligence. Somehow, his words cut through. A wave of resolve splashed him. 

"Wow, moved by an influencer...maybe I'm dumber than he is"

But finally, after years, something felt right. Maybe - no. This was gonna be his last day at that wretched company.

A handful of minutes, and he was on the train. Packed as usual, the smell of fart in the morning was something he grew reluctantly familiar with. It was almost like an old friend. Just like Pete, the homeless guy who seemed to live on every train Damien ever took.

"Have a good one, Pete"

"Fuck you"

"Thank you Pete"

The office looked like an old mental institution that was never refurbished

“It’s to make us go insane”

loved to joke his project manager with a satisfied face. Despite everyone laughing at the quip, identical day after day, somehow it wasn’t all that funny when it came from your personal jailer.
That morning the new coworker didn’t show up, the third colleague to leave that month. Only yesterday, he would have bitterly judged the poor rookie with a mixture of contempt and envy

 “Quitting after 10 days? Weak, pathetic.”

But now that he was about to do the same, he felt kinship, respect. Three people this month had the courage to stand up for themselves and quit the nightmare.  

“That idiot! Ditching us like this! Leaving you to pick up her slack. I’m sure you can handle it”

barked the manager. His fat uncalloused hand firmly pressing his shoulder - a not - so - subtle threat. If that wasn't his last day, the inevitable series of 

“Write down what I said!  Who told you to write it down? Are you trying to make me look bad? Everything has to go through me!  Why are you asking me? You are worthless! You have something to say? You should be grateful you even have this job!” 

would have given him heartburn. 

He decided to use his only brief break to say goodbye to the cramped, wet and moldy break room. He put the money in the vending machine. It gave him two coffees. He hated them both, but he took it as a sign. 

The day went on as usual. Shades of grey, The boss screaming at the manager, the manager screaming at them, the colleagues silently crying, cramming between a mental breakdown and the other to meet the deadline. He was one of them, but now it all seemed so silly and unnecessary. He wasn’t gonna work on the project, if he had to go, he wanted to be remembered as a thorn in the side. As the hours passed, no one seemed to be leaving the office even after work hours.

“I’ll go for a snack run. Do you need something?”

He faked writing down what his coworkers wanted, took his bag and stormed out of the office. The sun had already abandoned the sky, the city was buzzing with the clamors of the car packed roads. Damien dragged himself to a secondary street, he didn’t want to cause a road accident. Then chose the highest building in the area, not a skyscraper, but tall enough. Each step felt lighter and lighter, until he finally reached the roof. He looked down, everything seemed monochrome.

“Mom, dad…I’m sorry. But I'm finally doing something on my own terms”

He smiled, the first time in what felt like ages. Joining his fingers to mimic a camera, he aimed at the ground below

“A red smudge in a grey world. Eh eh eh, not too shabby”.

The street was clear, he could see the river of concrete in all its depressing glory. The tiny bit of humanity left in him weakly grasped at his stomach, coughing to run the other way. 

Another day...What came to his mind was the shitty coffee from the break room

”Yup, that’s what I thought”

He stepped off the building.

Time almost stopped. He could feel everything clearly. The summer breeze caressing his falling form, the lampposts drawing a strange pattern through the fabric of the night. Glorious peace. For at least two seconds. His face froze in disbelief. As he was getting closer to the ground, a truck was perfectly timed for a collision course.

“No”

He muttered

“Not you...just give me some pea-”

An oppressively bright white light was the only thing he could see. From the emptiness, ethereal voices emerged. They were laughing

“Oh come on! Why did you do it to him?”

said a bubbly, feminine voice

“I just wanted to see if I could do it. Thought it would be funny.”

answered a more arrogant, masculine one.

"It was"

They resumed their laughter.

He felt the weight of life burden his spirit once more. His eyes were glued shut. When he tried to rub them, his arms flailed uselessly, his hands tiny and weak.

“No! No! No! What were those assholes? Gods? I swear, I’ll make them pay and-”

He opened his eyes

“Oh…colors”