First Draft of a Reaper Report.Wallace actually took the time to slap his own face, probably thinking the piercing wind
on his cheek wasn’t enough to numb the shame that he was feeling.
His tear ducts ran dryas every drop that emerges from his eyes are instantly evaporated by the sheer heat of theafternoon air.
Damn, he thought. They’re not kicking in yet. Drugged up and thinking
happy thoughts just a minute ago, he was now in a downward spiral, succumbing to thenightmares of the exact agony he was trying to escape when he took those pills.Soaring past windows in freefall, watching all them oblivious faces in their tiny littlecubicles; a part of him looking at them in disguised contempt in the form of pity at howminiscule their lives turned out to be, forever unaware of the other prospects of happinessthe life can bring other than the pursuit of dollar bills and the supposed comfort that itought to bring. Money is something that Wallace has plenty of, since he could muster thecourage to leave it all behind and not be worried about leaving the rest of the peoplearound him in dire straits.Yet another part of him watches in quiet, boiling jealousy, as he envied at exactly howoblivious they were to the cheeky bites and petty tantrums that those other possible routes
to bliss often carry along. They’re lucky, he
thought. For the less they know, the less theywill hurt and be hurt. The less they know about the unintentional wickedness thathappiness actually hides under its glorious façade, the less of those selfish choices theywill have to make.Happiness is not overrated, contrary to popular belief.
s just not for everyone.Because happiness requires a certain level of innate buoyancy to go along with the usualfloats that them mortals lug around their backs and their hearts for protection. And once
those floats come off, usually through a conscious act by the mortal, it’s tremendously
stay afloat when joy’s
lovely sirens come beckoning you, pulling you deeperin their depths, where its beauty grows proportionately with its danger.Wallace is one such individual that lacks that inborn capacity to keep him from
drowning, because it doesn’t help that he was instead entrusted with the gift, or curse, of
plunging straight towards happiness whenever he sees it. At his current circumstance, it isstill unsure whether this was yet another act of pleasure, or whether it is a cold, calculateddecision that he made after Silvia found out that he had slept with her best friend. Oh,Silvia. A fine young woman, one must admit. She also happened to be the love of his life.According to his experiences, the trouble with Wallace is that he is capable of doing suchgreat evil yet does not possess the emotional detachment from his wayward deeds. Inot
her words, he’s
thoughtless enough to go around committing those deeds that landedhim in his current state, yet thoughtful enough to be feeling guilt. And shame.Too soft, he was.