My Personal Ecclesiastes


© Miles Rost

If you like my work, buy me a virtual cup of coffee at Ko-Fi.

There is no me. There’s just doing the laundry, paying the rent, riding the bus, going to work, going to school. You know. Nothing that’s important. So here I am feeding coins into the washers and dryers at the laundromat, trying to read a book and realizing that I don’t enjoy it. In fact, I don’t enjoy anything. Not a damn thing. I eat good food. I mean, I live in San Francisco, so there’s a lot of good food. But so what? I’ve considered suicide for a long time. I walk out of the building and into traffic.

I wrote this for Rochelle Wisoff-Fields 3 March 2023 edition of Friday Fictioneers. The idea is to use the image above as an inspiration to write a wee story or poem no longer than 100 words. My word count is 99.

No ghost or time travelers today. I just woke up in a pensive mood and this is what came out. Oh, as a young man I did live in San Francisco (back when mere mortals could afford it) and did my laundry at a laundromat a few blocks from my apartment on 34th and Geary. Yes, the food was great.

To read other stories inspired by the prompt, visit inlinkz.

If you’re interested in more of my work, try Ice, my end of the world novelette about pirates, dinosaurs, global cooling, and Antarctica.

34 thoughts on “My Personal Ecclesiastes

  1. Sadly life can be like this… I pray that the traffic stopped for him, and he learnt to like with life’s up and downs


    • I left the story ambiguous for a reason. Interestingly enough, one of my short stories, a cyberpunk piece that was just accepted for publication, has to do with my protagonist being hit by a car. She wasn’t suicidal, the driver ran a red light. Her life before and after became spectacular and she could never tell reality from fantasy. It was fun to write, but it was also hard because I don’t want to hurt people, even fictional characters.


  2. Over the years I have noticed when those things people do become their identity. It seems to work fine until they no longer can. Are we what we do? Good story.


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