He did it. He finally quit his job. After seven hellish months of back-breaking, soul-crushing servitude, Larry Holmes was finally free and he never looked back. He still would recieve three checks from them the following Fridays, that was good. Thinking back now, he wished he'd done it sooner. Liberating and exhilarating, saying "Fuck you, cunt," to his boss was also appropriate. They stepped all over him those long (short) seven months. He was a grown-ass man, he didn't need that job, no one did! He was slave to no one.
Larry sat in his car outside the building he spent every other day at; breathing in deeply, he pulled out a gun from the glove box and put the tip of it into his mouth, pointed up at his brain. He did all this with a straight face, even a pleasent (valley) one. That was his real speciality, hiding his feelings from everyone. He got so good at it that he himself didn't know what he was feeling at any given time. Whatever it was, it was forced so quickly and so deeply inside of him that he had little time to analyse it. It would be fairly easy for him to talk himself out of this, put the gun away and see how his day goes. After all, he never had to go back to this shit-hole again! But, today was a day of release, so, he pulled the trigger.