The ring tone ended and it went to the voice mail. Now I am glad my Property Manager did not pick up the call. What he would have told me? I was just trying to get this giant tumor thing off my chest. That was the frame of mind I was in. I knew my Property Manager couldn't have done a thing at 4am in the morning. Not until somebody died.
I tried to think positive. That how lucky that I've lived. How lucky that my pregnant wife wasn't around with me to experience this horror. If I believed in God, I would thank God for how lucky I have been. And thought I deserved a beer. And cigarettes, which I've had previously quit for a week. I walked out to the petrol kiosk to buy what I wanted.
I sat down on the curb outside the pavement. I lit the cigarette and sucked it in deep. I looked up to my little apartment. How am I going to sort this out? I thought as I puffed it out slowly. Can my Property Manager explain what happened? Is it a sign from God? Will the Poodle ever bark again? When can I seriously quit smoking?
I had no answers. Only questions.
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