Shambolic Review
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Shambolic Review

ledge story #2

Photo by Nicola D'Anna on Unsplash

Vince was going to wear an Armani suit to the ledge. He didn’t know what kind of mess he would be at the bottom, but at least he could look smashing upon descent.
The suit was a rental. The first rental place wouldn’t rent to him because he accidentally let slip that he was planning to die in the suit. He withheld this information when talking to the second rental place. It felt a little dishonest, but the ends this time justified the means.
He walked around downtown in his suit and felt like a big-shot, made a detour into a bodega and bought a bottle of Glenlivet 12 year single malt. His paycheck was almost gone.
The remaining $35 he would donate to some charity or something. Maybe put it in the note? Where should he leave the note where people could read it? Would anybody care?
He drank heavily on one of the piers of Fisherman’s Wharf, freaking out the tourists. People were perplexed as to why this very well-dressed man was guzzling scotch out in public like this.
“I’ve got to figure out where to put the note,” he slurred. He hadn’t eaten or slept for two days. People became outlines — shadow forms. Reality melted. “Maybe some kind of blog or something… but that seems like a whole thing.”
Night came and he was still at the pier, half-passed-out on a bench, not knowing where to put the note, running out of suicidal conviction, broke, très chic.
Tomorrow Vince would return the suit. He hoped they would give him back a deposit after sleeping on the bench.




Literary fiction that challenges.

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Marty Shambles

Marty Shambles

Pushcart nominated author of short fiction. Words in: Class Collective Magazine, Hearth & Coffin, The Sparrow’s Trombone.

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