perfect crime

“A beer or two every evening is healthy,” I reassured myself every evening as I ran up the stairs two at a time. Like most people, I lost my job during the pandemic which led me to sell my coding skills online. This was not the kind of life I had pictured myself living after campus. I expected more and I had good reason for this. But my high expectations had set me up for a life of infinite disappointments. Drowning my disappointments in mid-range alcohol brands seemed like the best thing to do and it was, for several years.

I walked into the club and sat in my favourite spot where I had a clear view of the entrance and possible exits in case all hell broke loose and I needed to dodge a bullet or rather a broken bottle. Having been a victim of several bar fights, I was always on high alert. I looked around to read the environment and register any possibility of violence. Despite living in one of the safest neighbourhoods on the outskirts of the city, I acknowledged the fact that alcohol has a tendency of transforming even the most civilized people into beasts.

A voluptuous lady walked towards me smiling and wryly inquired what ‘poison’ I wanted to be served. She knew my order by heart since I was a regular customer. I am known to be a creature of habit who rarely tries anything new. Her mocking inquiry was her weird way of shooting her shot. I went to the club solely to drown my disappointments and get away from my nagging wife who always glared at me in contempt. I wasn’t interested in another nagging woman in my life so I smiled back and requested my usual beer discouraging any further lines of conversation.

A few minutes later, three young men in their late twenties walked in. They pulled chairs not far from where I sat and ordered a bottle of bourbon. Not long after, they began talking about all sorts of things from the stock market, bitcoin, blockchain, cryptocurrency, and various applications. I sipped my beer slowly and it painfully trickled down my dry throat as I reminisced about my old self. I pictured myself and my fellow nerds years back when we brainstormed innovative ideas we hoped would change the world. We believed that we would be the Bill Gates and Mark Zuckerberg of our generation.

You see, I graduated second in my class with a first-class honours undergraduate degree in computer science. Having been nurtured by two computer gurus (my parents) while growing up, my computer skills were unparalleled. I had started learning to code at a very young age but it was not until I joined campus that I achieved my full potential. I explored different computing fields trying to find where my passion and excellence lay. Like my parents, I hoped to become a renowned and respected software engineer and my stars were aligning perfectly.

I put in the hours and chaired several innovation clubs during my campus days in preparation for my bright future. My portfolio was looking good and so was my resume. After my graduation, I had gone to work for a promising startup. The startup was progressive and gradually made a name for itself in the tech ecosystem until the pandemic struck. As a result of the 10-month closure and quarantine, our projects had run behind schedule and crucial investors had pulled their funding. Our previously promising startup suffered a slow and painful death. I had put all my eggs in that one basket. Three years later I was still struggling to get back on my feet but everything was moving slowly.

 By now, I had ordered another beer. I scrolled through my emails to distract my mind, reminiscing was becoming too painful. As I sat there sipping my cold beer alone, I hoped that any company would reply to any of the hundreds of application letters I had sent. I was at a place beyond rock bottom, a place I didn’t know existed. Suddenly there was a unique aura as if some supreme being had entered the room. Everything in the room seemed to have halted. I slowly turned towards the entrance and there she was, dressed in a well-pressed pantsuit.

She elegantly walked towards the dimly lit corner booth and ordered one of these popular organic beers. The corner booth was in my line of sight so I kept an eye on her wondering what her kind was doing in such a club. I perceived her to be one of those confident women who have their lives figured out. Based on her dress code (pantsuit), I presumed that she had a white-collar job and worked in one of them’ wall street offices. Her confidence ruled out the secretary position and screamed lawyer, accountant, insurance, or real estate agent.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *