A Nice Place to Live

The cold, January wind howled through the air as it navigated its way through heavy raindrops, creating the unmistakable loud, whooshing sound that only a strong wind could make; the only thing louder than the wind, was the yelling taking place in a mid-Manhattan board meeting. The board of directors at Sunford Shoe Co. was in a panic because of a disastrous advertising campaign undertaken by Gilligan Stromsky, a shivering and hesitant man who didn’t have a safety valve in life and was cursed with the ability of having his work be undercut by his superiors if it didn’t carry out more than it promised, which wasn’t too often. This meeting was called to order because his latest campaign about the newest and most expensive shoes made by the company did not persuade enough people to by them, and as a result the shares were tanking, and the best idea the directors had was to arrange a meeting to pelt Gilligan with insults.

            “You’re a damn fool Stromsky!”

            “What on Earth convinced you that this was a good idea?”

            “We sank a lot of money into these shoes, and for what? That pitiful excuse of an advertising campaign?”

            “We ought to fire you right where you stand!”

            With every passing minute, the insults became louder and louder, until Gilligan could no longer take it and stunned the whole room into silence by banging his fist on the table and shouting:

            “Well it’s not my fault you bastards were stupid enough to think that people would buy this miserable shoe that you foolishly sank all this money into!”

            Breathing heavily, and with anyone too stunned to speak, Gilligan excused himself from the meeting and went into the bathroom to splash some water on his face. The refreshing water felt good, but when he looked at himself in the mirror, he saw those unavoidable dark rings under his eyes, a look of defeat in his complexion, and body language that solidified his longing to leave his work, and maybe even the world. Gilligan Stromsky, in short, longed for something new.

            When he wiped the cold water off his face, he heard the door open and all-too familiar footsteps enter the bathroom. It was his friend, Francis, coming to check up on him after the department head told him what happened. Francis was never one who enjoyed working for the company, and spent the same amount of time working there as Gilligan did, although Francis looked healthier and more enjoying of his work than Gilligan did.

            “Are you alright? I heard about what happened at the meeting, looks like you really gave those fatcats the business, huh?” Francis said with a tone of excitement.

            “Yeah, I suppose I did, but they had it coming to them. Think about it, who the hell would buy a pair of shoes you could make phone calls from, and who the hell would be stupid enough to fund it?” Gilligan said.

            “Hey, what can I say, it’s not our job to make the business calls, but carry them out, although, in their defense, that advertising campaign could have used some work.”

            “Gee, thanks Francis, like I didn’t have enough people riding me on this, and lord knows that when Shelly hears about this, she’s going to lose it.”

            “Oh yeah, that’s right, if you thought that meeting was bad, it’s going to be twenty times worse when you get back to Shelly.”

            “For once, I’m not glad that the day’s almost over.”

            “Speaking of which, before you leave, Dennis would like you to see him in his office to talk about what happened.”

            “Go figure.”

            “Are you sure you’re alright, man?”

            “Well, if you really want to know, I’m tired of coming in here day after day, only to get chewed up and spit out by this whole firm. I’m tired of going home to my ungrateful wife who does God knows what when I’m out. I’m tired of the way things are around here, for cryin’ out loud, I’ve been working at this firm for twenty-five years, and what do I have to show for it? These rings under my eyes, and people in that board room just howling for my blood, and lord knows that when I walk into Dennis’ office, I’m going to get canned for good.”

            “So you made one rough campaign, big whoop, with all the work you’ve done over the years, Dennis would be an idiot to fire you over that.”

            “We’ll see about that, Dennis isn’t exactly a reasonable man.”

            “Look, just go in there, and try not to do anything else, okay?”

            “Alright, if I don’t see you by the time I get out, have a good day.”

            “You as well.”

            The two of them shook hands, and left the bathroom while Francis walked with Gilligan to Dennis’ office before Francis left to not be involved in whatever would happen next. Once inside the office, Dennis sat at his desk with a sour face that Gilligan was all too used to. When Gilligan took his seat, Dennis began talking in a tone that epitomized everything the board wanted to say to him.

            “Gilligan, you were a man I could count on, and a man who knew how to take care of business. Did you notice that one word in that sentence?” Dennis said.

            “No, I didn’t notice sir,” Gilligan said apathetically.

            “That one little word, ‘were,’ you were a man I could trust, meaning that I can no longer trust you. What you did in that room was beyond all excuse and comprehension, and I’m not even going to allow you to give an explanation as to why you did that, because I’m not going to offer you the opportunity to excuse yourself from this. Behavior like this, will not suffice, and thanks to you, I’ve had to apologize to each one of our directors individually, and pin your subordination on my poor leadership skills.”

            “Poor? You have no leadership skills at all,” Gilligan thought to himself.

            “I’m sorry sir,” Gilligan said.

            “You are not going to get away on that apology alone, however, you have done great work for us in the past, despite this monumental flaw, so, I’m not going to fire you, but you are on probation. Meaning, that you are on thin ice, one more crack like that, and you are out of here, do you understand?”

            “Yes sir.”

            “Good, now please leave, I don’t want you to cause anymore trouble than you already have today.”

            Grateful that the meeting with Dennis was over, Gilligan left his office and got everything he needed to go home. When he stepped outside, the frigid weather was the first thing that greeted him, and made him realize that his coat was far too thin for the weather to withstand. For much of the bus ride home, he was shivering and cold because the bus’ heater was defective and the wintery weather made its way inside the bus somehow, making for an unpleasant and miserly ride home. Fortunately, Gilligan’s home wasn’t too far from his place of work, but, on this particular day he wished that it was, because once he went inside, he knew that Shelley would be there waiting to chew him out for what he did. Shelley was the tollbooth of gossip, much like one of those telephone operators back in the day; any piece of gossip that went out, it somehow got by her, even if she wasn’t directly involved in it.

            When the bus dropped Gilligan in front of his apartment block, he went inside, took the elevator up to his flat, and opened the door to Shelley waiting for him. Gilligan was too exhausted to think of anything to say to her, and decided to let her have at it so long as it would be over with quicker.

            “I heard about that little stunt you pulled in the office today,” Shelley said.

            “Hm?” Gilligan mumbled.

            “You know what I mean. If I didn’t know any better I’d say you were trying to get fired.”

            “That doesn’t sound too bad about now.”

            “Gilligan, please, you’re already on thin ice as it is in the office, what are we supposed to do if you lose your job?”

            “Have you ever thought about getting one?”

            “What’s that supped to mean?”

            “You know damn well what that means. Maybe instead of worrying about me, you should try to get out there and get a job of your own instead of lazing around waiting for me to come back with the cheddar!” Gilligan snapped.

            “What are you talking about? I do plenty around here,”

            “Like what?”

            “Never you mind, but what I want to know is why you’re acting this way. Why are you lashing out to me, and why did you completely lose it at the office?”

            Feeling as though he couldn’t escape Shelley until he told her what was really on his mind, he took a deep breath and told her what he told Francis in the bathroom:

            “I just really want a change in the way things are, I’ve been working at this firm for twenty-five years, my only concerns in that time have been money, politics, employment, and other things like those. I’m sick of living here in this big stinkin’ city, I want to be somewhere where I can truly be happy, I don’t care if it’s a village in the middle of nowhere, I just want to be somewhere where my life isn’t hindered by work or money or whatever else is going on in the world.”

            Shelley listened with indifferent ears and did not care in the slightest about Gilligan’s concerns, but tried her hardest in not letting him know. Instead of listening to him and helping him out, she told Gilligan that she ordered Chinese food and had it delivered to the apartment. Gilligan felt a little elated when he heard about this and the two of them went in the kitchen to eat. The next few minutes were followed by a more relaxed dinner between the two of them where few words were exchanged, but neither felt the need to say anything to one another. When dinner was over, Gilligan got a text from Dennis saying that he had to go in early the next day to begin his next advertising campaign for the company. Gilligan, needless to say, was not happy about this, but when he showed the text to Shelley, she said:

            “Well, you honestly can’t say you didn’t deserve it when you flipped out today.”

            Knowing that he wouldn’t get any sympathy from Shelley, he decided to go to bed early to at least get some rest for the early day he had coming up. After brushing his teeth and putting on his pajamas, he slipped underneath the covers of the bed he shared with Shelley; the last thing he saw before he closed his eyes was the disgusting colors that Shelley chose for the bedroom. Almost instantly, Gilligan fell asleep, but when he opened his eyes, he was somewhere else. He was standing in a field that was unobstructed by anything else other than the grass he stood on, and a sign to his left. The sign read, “Preston Village, 300 feet ahead.”

            “How the hell did I end up all the way here?” Gilligan thought to himself.

            Walking in the direction the sign pointed him to, Gilligan travelled for five minutes until he came to a hamlet that was in the middle of nowhere, but seemed to rejoice in itself. It was a bustling little village where the buildings were no taller than two stories, except for a giant structure in the middle, but the people were friendly towards one another, greeting each other in the streets and children receiving ice cream from a friendly old vendor. Gilligan walked in the streets as people who didn’t even know him casually waved hello to him, unsure what to do, he waved back at them, but it felt odd to him. Wanting some answers to where he was, he pulled someone aside and asked them where he was, as the person answered with a smile.

            “This is Preston Village, and my name is Tommy Sanders, how are you?” the man said.

            “I..I’m doing fine, but…but how did I end up here, all the way from my apartment in Manhattan?”

            “Sir, we get people from the furthest corners of the country here, and whenever they come here, all their troubles disappear. I was originally a steel worker from Philadelphia, but one day I stumbled across this village, and I instantly fell in love with the place, so much so that I have never once thought about going back to my old life.”

            “You don’t miss your old life at all?”

            “Are you kidding? Back in Philadelphia, I was a miserly steel worker who was barely making enough to support myself, but one day I came across Preston Village and I am the happiest I could ever be. For once in my life, I don’t have to worry about money or politics or anything else, over here it’s sunshine and happiness as far as the eye can see.”

            “Now that you mention it, it is a really nice place here.”

            “I know it is, it’s one of the most wonderful places you will ever see in your life.”

            “Compared to January in Manhattan this is a paradise.”

            “Yes it is, yes it is.”

            Gilligan was having a great time talking to Tommy, but while they were sharing a laugh between each other, the clock tower in the center of town struck noon and gave out a ring that chilled Gilligan to the core. Gilligan couldn’t move and despite his immobility, Tommy simply looked at him, tipped his hat and said:

            “Well, I guess I’ll see you another time.”

            Before Gilligan knew it, he lay awake in bed with his alarm buzzing next to him, while Shelley turned away from him to continue sleeping. He turned off his alarm and got out of bed quietly because as unpleasant as Shelley was, he knew full well that she was even more so if she woke up too early. Rushing to get dressed and cleaned up for the day ahead of him, Gilligan grabbed everything he needed for work, except for his coat. Unfortunately for him, the weather outside was 5 below zero, and if there was one thing he needed it was a coat.

            As he waited for the bus, standing and shivering, he could not help but think about the dream he had. He felt fully awake in it, and it felt as though he were talking to real people, even Tommy himself seemed to have come from a background that felt too real to be in a dream. Gilligan truly had no idea what to expect of it, but whatever it was, it was better than the cold and freezing Manhattan, in his opinion.

            When the bus came, the drive to work was blisteringly cold, and Gilligan could not help but think himself an idiot for forgetting his coat on a cold day such as this. The bus’ heat was still broken and the longer he rode on the bus, the more he felt a pain grow in his chest, and the more he developed a nasty cough. The bus itself was packed to the brim with various strangers coughing, sneezing, and spreading all kinds of diseases on that cesspool of a bus.

            At Gilligan’s stop, he was so cold and so tired of the bus’ patrons that he wasted no time in getting off and even pushed some people out of his way. Gilligan suddenly felt winded and short of breath and could not help but cough furiously, and the cold weather didn’t help matters at all, it felt as though he had an elephant on his chest and only wanted to be inside his office where it was warm. Gilligan went inside, but it was only warmer by ten degrees, making it just over 5 degrees Fahrenheit. Running into Francis along the way, Francis stopped Gilligan and spoke with him.

            “Whoa Gilligan, are you okay? You don’t look so hot?”

            “I don’t feel so hot either, but I gotta be here to do my job, or so I’ve been told,” Gilligan said.

            “Well if you’re really feeling that bad, maybe you should talk to Dennis, and maybe he’ll let you go. By the way, where’s your coat?”

            “He’ll never spring for it, to him, this is my punishment for losing it yesterday. Also, I forgot my coat back home, so I had to come all the way here like this. Why is it so freakin’ cold in here?”

            “Boiler room is under maintenance so for the moment, we don’t have any heat in the building.”

            “Just my luck. Anyway, I’d better get started before Dennis sees me, I’ll catch up with you later.”

            “Okay, see you later.”

            With that, Gilligan went to his desk, and began working on his advertising project, but while he was working, he could only think about the dream he had the previous night. He knew that he was sleeping, but it was the most awake he had been in a long time, and it’s not too often for someone to experience consciousness in the midst of their unconsciousness. There was something odd about that place, but whatever it was, it seemed to be perfect in all ways; a place that Gilligan wouldn’t mind visiting again. In fact, Gilligan wouldn’t mind living there if it meant that he could escape the rat race and focus on himself as a person rather than himself as a worker and a mediocre husband. Despite the cold he was facing in that cramped office, he was able to take some comfort in the knowledge that he would hopefully visit that town again since it felt too real to be a dream.

            Yet, while Gilligan was dreaming away for hopes of a better life, Dennis took a quick peak at his desk and saw that he wasn’t focusing on his work.

            “Gilligan! What gives? How could you possibly be slacking off when you have such a big project ahead of you?” Dennis shouted.

            Dennis’ unnecessary shouting brought Gilligan out of his pictured town and back into the stone cold reality where he currently dwelled in. Turning around with a cough, he saw Dennis standing over him in a threatening manner, as if Dennis were about to inflict violence onto Gilligan.

            “Oh…sorry. I must have gotten carried away for a second there,” Gilligan responded haphazardly.

            “You know what? I’m sick of your ‘sorrys’ and your excuses, you are on a thin line, you hear me? A thin line! Now quit fooling around and get back to work, you’re project is due by next week!”

            “Next week? You can’t possibly expect me to have this entire project finished by next week, do you?”

            “Yes I do! So you’d better get cracking.”

            Dennis walked away with his feet making the awful squeaking sounds his loose soles always made. Gilligan wanted nothing more at that moment than to take a razor to Dennis’ neck, but, as difficult as it was, he held himself back from doing so; also because he didn’t have a razor on him. For an advertising project as big on this, there was no conceivable way he could finish it by the next week without rushing some details. Not to mention that we was on thin ice with the board already and if he made even the slightest mistake, he would be canned, not that he even cared by that point.

            For the next few hours, Gilligan worked as hard as he could on the project, which involved too much soul-crushing boredom for it to be enjoyable whatsoever. When the time came around for his lunch break, he sat with Francis at their usual spot and talked about what was going on in their lives. Before taking a bite of his sandwich, Gilligan let out a few painful coughs and felt an unendurable pain build up in his chest, no doubt from the cold.

            “I’ll tell you what, you really should have worn a coat today, you don’t look so good. If anything, you’ve worn the thinnest coats imaginable for this kind of weather, that’s not good,” Francis said.

            “I swear, I either keep forgetting them or Shelley keeps misplacing them, I don’t know what to say,” Gilligan responded.

            The two of them shrugged off why Gilligan wasn’t wearing any coats, and went on eating their lunch. About halfway through their lunch break, Gilligan decided to talk to Francis about the dream he had, and maybe expect some answers from him. Gilligan told Francis about the town in the middle of nowhere, the ideal climate, the niceness of the people, and Tommy Sanders and expressed it all in great detail to Francis. To Gilligan, it was as if he were describing were heaven.

            “Well Gilligan, it certainly is odd for you to dream up something like that, and I haven’t any doubts that it is a nice place, but you have to remember that it was a dream,” Francis said.

            “Well, you may be right, but the thing was, it all felt real, too real. I could feel the weather, I could smell the fresh air, and Tommy Sanders seemed as if he could have been someone who really does exist for me to come up with in a dream,” Gilligan said.

            “I don’t know, it all could be an elaborate scheme by your mind to fool you into thinking that you’re someplace you’re not. For example, I read an article of this one guy who lived in Des Moines, Iowa, who thought that he visited hell and when he woke up, he was so traumatized because to him everything felt so real.”

            “What happened to him?”

            “Well, the article said that the neighbors complained about him playing music too loud and called the police on him. When the cops came, they found him with second-degree burns all over his body and his apartment completely trashed. I’m not saying that I know for sure that he visited hell or not, but what I’m saying is that you had better be careful with your dreams; sure it may seem innocent and nice, but what will happen to you if you pursue it? You just might end up in a psyche ward like that Iowa guy.”

            “I’ll end up in a psyche ward if I have to stay here any longer than I do. I’m not sure if what I witnessed was a dream or not, but I’ll tell you that it was a hell of a lot more peaceful than this hellhole. In that village, there was sunshine, friendly faces, and not a care in the world, meanwhile in this world what do I have to look forward to aside from a job that does not respect me, a wife that hates my guts, and this bleak and miserable world we live in?”

            “Well, Jesus, that was awfully dark.”

            “Maybe, but if staying in my dreams was the only good thing I have left to expect, then I hope that I never wake up.”

            Giving a few painful coughs from the bottom of his painful lungs, Gilligan put the rest of his lunch in his bag and saw that his break was over. He bade Francis goodbye as he went back to his desk to continue his emotionally depriving work.

            From the end of lunch until the end of his shift, Gilligan worked tirelessly on his advertising campaign, but only got so much done. It may have been a significant portion on its own, but in relation to what was expected of him, it wasn’t even so much as a flash in the pan. When the much awaited end of his shift finally came, he realized that if he was to make the deadline, he would have to take the campaign home and work on it from there. If there was anything Gilligan hated, it was bringing his work home with him; to him, work and home life should be as separate as church and state; but every once in a while, that rule is broken.

            Before Gilligan left the office and went outside into the detrimental cold, Dennis spotted him out of the corner of his eye and went over to Gilligan. Gilligan pretended not to notice him, but it was already too late, and before he knew it Dennis was standing closer to Gilligan than Gilligan would have wanted.

            “Before you go we have these details that I would like you to include into your campaign,” Dennis said as he handed Gilligan a sheet of paper.

            Gilligan briefly looked over the demands, which wasn’t many, but there was one demand in particular that Gilligan threw his eyebrows up at.

            “Wait, wait, wait, you want me to include this?” Gilligan said in disbelief.

            “Well…yes, is that a problem?”

            “For one thing, you’re giving me more than I can handle with this campaign already, I can only do so much. Second off, you are basically giving me zero room for error, so I have to pull this off in one fell swoop, and now you want me to include this detail, it can’t be done, it just can’t.”

            “What are you talking about? You most certainly can!”

            “Do you even realize what you’re asking me to do? You want me to compress as much information as I can into this one project, which is due next week, mind you, and now you’re saying that this must be included. Do you even realize how campaigns work? You can’t just add detail after detail, at some point there has to be a limit, and you have superseded that limit.”

            “I don’t think I like your tone. As your superior, I outrank you and I demand that you include everything on this list, the board of directors is expecting this to go off without a hitch.”

            “Well there will be plenty of hitches if you really think that all this can be pulled off, let alone by one man.”

            “Hey, we all have to make sacrifices when it comes to big business, I’m sorry but that’s the world we live in.”

            “Well what sacrifices are you making?”

            Dennis already started walking away, but was still within earshot of Gilligan’s question, yet did not answer. Gilligan was irritated at Dennis’ indifference to his plight, but decided not to provoke any more trouble than he already caused, and instead decided to head home.

            Once again, the cold weather greeted Gilligan’s skin through his thin clothes and made his lungs feel compressed from the cold. The bus ride was not too pleasant either since people were sneezing and coughing up a storm as tracts of saliva and germs were visible when it left people’s mouths and into the air. When Gilligan got off at his stop, he was almost sure that he got some kind of sickness just by being on that bus, and rushed inside to escape the brutally cold weather. Thankfully, his apartment was warm and for the first time since he left his house he was somewhat comfortable. Yet, as soon as he was accustomed to the temperature of his apartment, Shelley came over to greet him, and Gilligan was in no mood to deal with her.

            “How was your day today?” Shelley asked.

            “It was cold, cramped, and I was swamped with work out the yin-yang,” Gilligan replied.

            “I see that you forgot your coat again today, are you trying to give yourself pneumonia?”

            “Shelley, please, I am not in the mood for this. I had a busy day today, and I have to work from home in order to get this freakin’ deadline reached.”

            “Where’s this attitude coming from?”

            “I’m sorry, but as long as the deadline is what it is, I can’t afford to waste any time, and I still have to work on this campaign tonight.”

            “Well I wish I could help you, but I don’t know anything about advertising”

            “I know you would if you could.”

            Gilligan put his stuff down on the floor and got changed into more comfortable clothes, while Shelley sat back down on the couch reading from a catalogue. When he came back in sweatpants and a sweater, he gave a few more painful coughs and joined Shelley in the living room. He knew that it was going to be a shot in the dark that she would listen, but Gilligan decided to tell her about the dream he had about Preston Village. He went into the same amount of detail he did when he told Francis, but she was completely indifferent to what he had to say.

            “Honey, I know that things aren’t going so well for you right now, but this dream you had, it means absolutely nothing,” Shelley said.

            “No, no it definitely means something, I just don’t know what,” Gilligan said.

            “Listen to yourself, you’re talking about a village you visited in a dream, how can you be sure that you are going to visit it again tonight?”

            “Well…I don’t know. I don’t know if I’ll see it again, but everything felt so real for it to not be true.”

            “So what? Dreams feel realistic, but they’re not real, no matter how realistic it felt to you.”

            “You know, you’re not really helping me here, I’ve got a lot going on at work, I’ve got a bad cough going on inside of me, and I’m trying to relish in this one gleaming spark of hope, and all you can do is tell me that it’s not worth shit. Do you have any idea how that feels? No, you don’t, because I’m the one working while you’re here doing God knows what.”

            “Gilligan, how could you say such a thing?”

            “It’s because it’s true, isn’t it? I’m the one out there, busting my ass, while all you do is stay at home and do whatever it is you do, which from what I can see is not a damn thing.”

            “You know what? I can’t believe that you would treat your own wife like this!”

            “I can’t believe that you treat me like this, you stay here all day, you sap up my money, and you don’t even have the gratitude or the common courtesy to even say thank you or I love you every now and then! You know what you are, you’re a parasite, you’re no better than those weasels on the board of directors or Dennis, only with you, I have to deal with you every single day, and you have no idea how agonizing you can be sometimes!”

            Knowing that everything he said was true, Shelley tried to hold back her anger as tears of rage streamed out of her eyes. She ran into their bedroom and locked the door as she wailed loudly; it was a miracle that none of the neighbors came in to check on them. Gilligan felt sorry, but overall, he felt better for putting his foot down, although not too much. He didn’t want it to be this way, he didn’t want any of this, all Gilligan wanted was to live a life happily with his wife, but Shelley wasn’t the person he expected her to be when they first married; and he wasn’t the kind of person he thought he would turn out to be. Unfortunately, aside from Francis, Gilligan found nothing really satisfactory about his life and wanted nothing more than a clean slate, preferably in Preston Village.

            Before he got too down on himself, he pulled out his work from the office and spent some time working on it, with his box of Chinese leftovers from the night before serving as his only dinner. He laid all the papers out on the kitchen table and decided where to start working, with each step seeming as arduous as the last one. Gilligan began working on the project at 9:00 at night and worked as solidly as he could taking only an occasional bathroom break or to get something to eat or drink. Not even hearing a peep from Shelley still in the bedroom, Gilligan decided that she must have gone to sleep, and decided that he must get some sleep as well before he goes in to work the next day. But there was still so much to do in a small time frame, and each detail had to be perfect, everything about his campaign must have no mistakes about it, and given that it was due by the next week, Gilligan saw no foreseeable way out.

            By 1:00 in the morning, Gilligan was starting to feel worn out and exhausted from his work and placed his head down on his papers and closed his eyes. Gilligan did not even realize that he closed his eyes, but when he did, he found himself in an all too familiar place. He was in the same abandoned field he was in the night before with the same sign showing the way to Preston Village. Wasting no time, Gilligan ran to the much sought after destination, and when he arrived, nothing seemed as if it had changed, which was a good sign for Gilligan as it was perfect enough on his own.

            When he arrived in the town, he saw two boys, no older than ten years old, with makeshift fishing poles going down to the watering hole to catch some fish. He saw neighbors engaging in friendly conversation, children having as much fun as their young hearts could handle, and the complete opposite of what he saw in Manhattan; and of course, he saw Tommy. He rushed over to say hello to his new friend, and when Tommy saw Gilligan, he couldn’t help but say hello as well, and why shouldn’t he? They may have known each other for only a day, but they were as inseparable as could be.

            “How have you been doing Gilligan?” Tommy asked.

            “Not so great, work’s been hard, life has been hard in general, and the only thing I have to look forward to is this village. If I could, I would definitely live here,” Gilligan said.

            Tommy reached out his hand and placed it on Gilligan’s shoulder.

            “If you really want to live here, all you have to do is go to the center of town, fill out a resident form, and your new home will be here.”

            “I’m not sure if I want to make the full commitment yet, I mean this place is nice and all, but I have a life and a reputation to uphold. I’m not so sure how much longer I can take of my old life anymore, but it’s not like I can just leave everything behind.”

            “Look, I know that it is quite a decision to make, but there is nothing you have to lose by coming here.”

            “What about my life? What about the people I’ll leave behind? What about these other people?”

            “It’s your decision what to do with your life, but take a look at all these people, you may not think it from the way they walk and talk, but before they got here they all had rough lives.”

            Tommy pointed to a slender blond man reading a newspaper by the curb.

            “That man over there is Lyle Carson. He grew up to an abusive family who didn’t even want him and spent a majority of his life working as a dishwasher in some greasy spoon outside of Cleveland, Ohio. One day he came across this village and gladly signed up to be a resident here. Now, he is one of the most happiest and jovial people you would have ever met.”

            Tommy then showed Gilligan to a young woman who was passing by, with a smile and a stride in her step.

            “That was Sharon Colby, she used to live in Mobile, Alabama with her husband. Unfortunately, the people of Mobile did not take too kindly to African-Americans and both she and her husband were terribly injured in an all-out race riot. After realizing that Mobile wasn’t safe for the two of them, they decided to take up residence here, where not only is everyone equal, but has an equitable share of resources; no one person is put ahead of another, based on race, class, or whatever have you.”

            “So all of these people gave up their previous lives to live out here?”

            “Giving up is such a harsh term, none of them gave up their lives, they simply wanted something better; besides, these people didn’t give up anything if it wasn’t worth having. They had the option to say no and go back to their lives, but what they all had in common was that they wanted something better, because they knew that it would make their time all the more enjoyable.”

            At that moment, a tall, yet heavyset gentleman came over and greeted Tommy and Gilligan and introduced himself as MacMurphy. He was on his way to perform a service at the local parish and didn’t want to be late, but when Tommy told him about Gilligan, he responded:

            “My boy, this is a place as pure and bountiful as the Garden of Eden itself, and I would urge you think twice before making the decision to go back to your old life. To become a citizen, you must go to the center of town and fill out a residence form, which consists of nothing more than having to sign your name. I would love to stay and tell you more, but I have to go and perform the service, have a blessed day you two,” MacMurphy said, and left for the parish.

            “Who was that?” Gilligan asked.

            “That was Father MacMurphy, the priest of Preston Village, and the lifeblood of our town. Before he got here, he was involved in the Iraqi invasion in 2003 as an infantry trooper, he committed some uncouth acts during the war, as many people did, but he went above and beyond. I’m not saying he was justified in what he did, but when he returned back to the United States in 2007, he was so wracked with guilt over what he did that he found he could never live a decent life ever again…until he found Preston Village. Now, he is one of the most passionate and energetic souls you will ever have met, and he would love nothing more than to make your acquaintance,” Tommy replied.

            Gilligan was all the more impressed by what he saw in Preston Village, and he did want to join, but he didn’t because he still felt the nagging urge to go back to his old life. Even though he saw no reason not to join Preston Village, he was oddly compelled to go back to his life, but the more he thought about it, the less he wanted to go back to Manhattan. What else did he have to look forward to other than an indifferent wife, and a job he hates? He decided to give it one more day, and if things don’t improve from there on, he would stay.

            He told Tommy about his situation, to which Tommy replied:

            “Whenever you want to join, we’ll be here, but for now, it is time for you to go.”

            Gilligan was confused at what he meant, until he heard the clock tower ring again. The same thing happened the night before; a blinding white light covered the landscape, and when Gilligan opened his eyes, he was back in the real world. But when he got a sense of where he was, he did not like it.

            As he struggled to his feet he saw that it was 4:00 in the morning, and he was sleeping in the midst of all of his papers that he was working on for his advertising campaign. The kitchen table was cluttered with papers and the spilled contents of the leftover Chinese food he had for dinner, which created a mess on some papers necessary for the campaign. When he looked out of the window he noticed that it was still dark and that he had at least four more hours until he was supposed to wake up, but he knew that there was absolutely no chance he would ever go back to sleep. The only light in the apartment was the overhead light bulb illuminating the mess of papers and Chinese leftovers that were sprawled out on the table. He decided to work on the campaign a little more, but before he could do so, he put on a pot of coffee to keep himself somewhat awake for the day that lay ahead of him; he could already tell that it was going to be a rough one.

            While the coffee was being made, he scraped some of the hardened lo mein off his papers, which left a visible brown stain on some of the words; nothing anybody couldn’t read, but it certainly wouldn’t be professional to hand in something with that on it. As he looked at the mess on the table and out at the grim night landscape that only midtown Manhattan could provide, he realized that he was a fool not to take the chance to stay in Preston Village. Any remaining notions he had about the redemption of his life was all gone, and if work, Shelley, Dennis, the board of directors, and everything else going on in the world were the only things he could look forward to, then he may as well take up residence in Preston Village. He told Tommy that he felt an odd compulsion to go back to his old life, but one quick glance at where he was destroyed any compulsion or reason for him to stay in Manhattan

            “That settles it. Tomorrow, I stay,” Gilligan said to himself as he organized the papers.

            Since he didn’t go back to sleep, he continued working on the papers until 8 in the morning, when he was supposed to wake up. The coffee may have helped him for the first two to three hours, but after that he was tired and the pain that was in his chest only got worse. He felt as though a lead weight had been pressed upon his lungs, and whenever he breathed through his mouth he could hear a high-pitched wheeze escape his esophagus. It was hard for him to breathe, and he should have gone to see a doctor, but he knew that if he took the day off, it would mean twice as much work as the next day, and he had enough work as it was.

            He got dressed as quietly as he could to avoid waking up Shelley, as he was sure that she was still upset about what happened the night before. While an argument like that would no doubt stay in a person’s mind for quite a while, with Shelley, she would hang on to even the slightest insult for about a week; with what Gilligan said to her, she would not let it go until at least six weeks later. He was afraid that she would still be mad at him, and he was not in the mood for anything of the sort. To avoid waking up Shelley, he got what he needed and quickly left the apartment, but it wasn’t until he was on the bus that he realized that he forgot his coat again.

            While the bus ride over wasn’t too bad as it had been in previous days, he was the one coughing and sneezing frequently, and was afraid that he became one of the people on the bus whose only purpose is to spread their germs with everyone else. It was difficult for him to breathe and the cold weather only seemed to press that lead weight on his lungs harder and harder. He felt light-headed throughout the bus trip and nearly missed his stop, fortunately he snapped out of it and with a dash as quick as his slowed down respiration would allow he made it off the bus in the last second.

            All he had to do was make it through this last day of work, and when he fell asleep, he would live as happily as the other people did in Preston Village. But for now, all he had to do was make it through this one final day, and since it began at 4 in the morning, Gilligan thought that it would never end. When he made it to the interior of the Sunford Shoe Co. he thought that with the shape he was in he should ask for the day off, but he knew that with the state he was in with the board of directors, it would never happen.

            The building was as cold as the previous day, but everybody else except him seemed to notice. He forgot his coat again, and he could feel himself visibly shivering as his lungs started to slow down more and more. Walking to his desk, Gilligan felt himself become visibly winded and when he sat down he legs buckled underneath him while his weight plopped onto the chair, releasing a small cloud of dust upon impact. He took out his papers from the previous night and put them on his desk, some of them still having stains from the leftover Chinese food. Not five minutes after getting started on his work, the words on his papers seemed to jumble themselves right in front of his eyes, and he didn’t even know what he was reading anymore. Everything hurt Gilligan: his eyes hurt from working on the papers late at night and into the morning, his chest hurt from the additional pressure put on his lungs, and his mind was ablaze with incomprehensibility since he had little sleep and was running on whatever caffeine was left inside of him. Everything in his body told him to stop what he was doing and seek help, but Gilligan wasn’t listening to his aching self and went right back to work.

            Once Gilligan started to calm himself down he was able to work at a steady pace, although at the pace he was going at, he wasn’t going to meet his deadline. As Gilligan was working at the pace suitable for him, Dennis came by to check on Gilligan’s progress, and was not happy with what he saw. The first thing that Dennis noticed was not Gilligan’s slumped over and aching body, but instead it was the copious amounts of papers scattered about on his desk, with some of them smeared in sweet and sour sauce.

            “Good God Gilligan, look at your desk, it’s an absolute mess, what do you think you’ll be able to accomplish in this pigsty you call your station?’

            Gilligan was nowhere near the mood for Dennis’ taunts and his tired and stressed out mind was not able to handle Dennis in the way he usually was able to.

            “Well? Aren’t you going to answer me?”

            Gilligan tried not to answer him, as he knew that the moment he opened his mouth, he would burn the bridge between him and Dennis forever.

            “If that’s the case, maybe I should report you to the Board of Directors. You’re in a tight spot you know, and I’m sure this would not help you in the slightest. So answer me, what do you have to say for yourself?”

            At the end of his rope, Gilligan held in his rage as much as he could, but it was too much for Gilligan’s tired mind to keep at bay.

            “Well, I guess this kind of behavior will be notified immediately to the Board of-“

            Before Dennis could finish his sentence, Gilligan let out a yell that encompassed all of his anger. The yell lasted for nearly ten seconds and everyone in the office heard it, including Dennis who could not process what was happening. When Gilligan was finished shouting, he pushed Dennis out of the way, toppling him to the floor and unable to muster the strength to get back up since Gilligan’s yell shocked him.

            Without any hesitation, Gilligan left his cluttered station and made his way to the bathroom with his footsteps making a pounding sound on the floor as he was walking. Slamming the bathroom door shut on, he locked himself inside and felt faint since his high-energy yell and stomping took out a lot of energy from his already depleted body. Feeling faint and his lungs providing oxygen to his body slower and slower by the second, Gilligan splashed some cold water on his face in an attempt to wake himself up. All it did for him, though, was send a shock throughout his facial nerves and get his collar wet.

            When Gilligan looked up to see himself in the mirror, he saw the darkened bags under his eyes; the stress of twenty-five years of ungrateful work expressed in wrinkles on his face, and his befuddled hair, which wasn’t that way when he entered the building. He was nothing short of a mess with his clothes all wrinkled and eyes showing the expression of a defeated man, which is exactly what he was. When he looked in the mirror again, this time he swore he saw the face of Dennis behind him, even though the bathroom was locked and nobody was in there with him. He didn’t say anything, but he made a judgmental expression at Gilligan, and next to him was Shelley, who also made the same expression as Dennis.

            Gilligan was clearly hallucinating, but he was caught off-guard by what he saw in the mirror and couldn’t handle it. When he next looked back, he saw all the members on the Board of Directors, and momentarily lapsed into insanity. He breathed heavily, not being able to comprehend what it was that was happening, all the while his lungs not being able to keep up Gilligan’s rate of breathing. Still focused on the mirror, Gilligan saw all the faces locked in the same judgmental expressions, staring at him, without saying a word. Feeling scared for his life, Gilligan balled up his right hand into a fist and threw a spring-loaded punch to the mirror, immediately shattering it to hundreds of little shards.

            The mirror was completely destroyed and Gilligan felt as if he were going to faint. The bathroom was getting softer in his vision, all the colors seemed to merge together, and Gilligan had trouble standing up. Yet, he also felt his right hand become wet, he remembered drying off his hands after he splashed the water on his face, but when he looked he saw a couple of crimson red streaks run down his pale hand. A few stray pieces of glass had fallen out and cut Gilligan’s hand along his fingers, knuckles, and the back of his hand leaving his hand a bloody mess.

            Normally, Gilligan could tolerate the sight of blood, but since he was too deprived of energy to deal with it, his breathing became even faster as all kinds of thoughts were running through his mind. Losing all sense of balance, Gilligan toppled to the floor, unable to move, unable to breathe, and hearing Dennis on the other side of the door, banging on it and yelling for Gilligan to come out. Before Gilligan knew it, he closed his eyes and appeared on the field just outside of Preston Village, completely healed.

            Wasting no time, Gilligan ran to the village in a mad sprint and when he arrived he was all out of breath, although he ran faster and farther than his incapacitated lungs would have allowed him to run. Spotting Tommy Sanders over by one of the corner stores he went over to him, happy to see a face that won’t taunt or insult him.

            “Gilligan, you look like you’re out of breath, what happened to you?” Tommy asked with concern.

            “Never mind that, I’ll tell you later, but for now, I have made up my decision to live here. I’m tired of my old life, I’m tired of the work and stress, I just want to be away from it all, I want to live here in Preston Village,” Gilligan said in surrender.

            “I knew you’d come around. Follow me.”

            Gilligan followed Tommy to the highest structure in the center of town and when they arrived there was a stack of paper and a pen on a table outside of the building. Gilligan took one of the papers and read everything over, when he decided to sign off on it, he realized that Father MacMurphy was right; all he had to do was sign the paper. Tommy showed Gilligan to a slot in the side of the structure to deposit the paper into, and without any hesitation, Gilligan shoved the paper into the wall.

            “Congratulations Gilligan, you are officially a resident here in Preston Village. I think you’ll like it here,” Tommy said.

            “I think I’ll like it as well,” Gilligan said.

            “Now that you’re a resident here, allow me to show you around.”

            Gilligan followed Tommy as Tommy showed him around the village. They said hello to a bunch of people, including MacMurphy, Colby, and Carson and instantly, Gilligan felt a peace surrounding him that he hadn’t felt before in his life.

            However, as Gilligan was becoming acquainted with Preston Village, Dennis decided that enough was enough and unlocked the bathroom door with they key he kept in his office. The entire office gathered around the bathroom door to see what Gilligan was doing that inspired yelling, glass smashing, and then sudden silence. When Dennis opened the door, he saw Gilligan lying on the floor, unmoving, surrounded by glass and a puddle of coagulated blood underneath his hand. The sight of Gilligan lying like this gave everyone an unsettled feeling in their stomachs, and made them too scared to go inside. Francis, however, could not stand to see his friend in this manner and went inside to check on Gilligan; he told Gilligan to wake up, cleared some of the glass around him, and checked his pulse.

            When Francis couldn’t feel anything, he went pale and began to panic.

            “Back up, everyone back up, for the love of God, someone call a doctor. Hurry!” Francis said frantically.

            The paramedics arrive ten minutes later to check on Gilligan, in the same position he was in when the door was opened. One of the paramedics checked Gilligan’s pulse, and when he felt nothing as well he said to everyone in the office:

            “I’m sorry folks, but this man is dead.”

            A silent hush fell over the office as the news sank in, but affected nobody other than Francis, who was on the verge of tears. He watched in silent agony as he saw one of his good friends was zipped up in a black body bag and carried away on a stretcher into an ambulance. After the paramedics left the office, everyone resumed their work as if normal, but Francis couldn’t focus on his work knowing that he failed to help out Gilligan in a time where he truly needed a friend.

            One week later the funeral for Gilligan was held, with everyone from the office showing up, along with Shelley and people from Gilligan’s family that Francis didn’t know. The service was given, but out of all the people there, Francis felt that he was the only one who cared.           Dennis gave his spiel about Gilligan being a good employee, despite knowing that he pushed Gilligan beyond his limits, Shelley gave her speech about Gilligan, but Francis knew that she never truly appreciated Gilligan when he was alive, and everyone else who spoke didn’t see the side of Gilligan that Francis knew.

            When Gilligan was laid to rest in his grave plot, he was given his last rites by the preacher and lowered into the ground. After everyone left to go home, Francis stayed behind to give his respects to Gilligan; he didn’t want Gilligan to leave this way, but in lieu of all the stress that Gilligan felt, it was better that he left now before things got worse. Francis stared for a long while at Gilligan’s headstone and then looked over at the headstones next to him.

            The headstones had names that were unfamiliar to him: such as Lyle Carson, Sharon Colby, Colin MacMurphy, and right next to Gilligan’s headstone was a man by the name of Thomas Sanders. Francis had never heard these names before, except for Thomas Sanders, which he remembered Gilligan mentioning before. He didn’t pay much mind to it, and decided to leave the cemetery.

            As he walked out through the front entrance he saw a sign in front of the gates that said:

“PRESTON VILLAGE CEMETARY”

            Francis didn’t know what to think, but he was not sure if this was what Gilligan was referring to when he was talking about Preston Village. There were so many questions in Francis’ mind, but he didn’t have an answer for any of them, what he did instead was get inside of his car and drive home deciding not to pay any heed to what could have been a potential warning signal.