by Anton Martin Smith antonmartinsmithwrites@gmail.com

After a decade of ignoring the pressing issue, he winced with terror. He suddenly realized he had castigated himself to be a generic footnote in some future self-published history of a small town wealthy family who had employed many quasi-Dickensian industrial slaves like the one he had blindly allowed himself to become. As he swept up the broken beer glass he mentally harangued himself for allowing himself to slowly slide into this ridiculous situation.

He new he was better than that, and had something big to offer himself and also the world. He may still be a footnote in that future wealthy families self-published book, but he’d soon be the star of his own book too.

As he swept up the broken pieces, he had finally made a firm pact to himself to fully and finally become himself. Right now it was all just an epiphany, but in his mind he knew he’d changed forever. Now that the broken pieces of beer glass had hit the bottom of his kitchens metal dustbin, it was now time to finally get moving.