Cecelia Ahern Short Stories Read Free

numbers for so many hours that they all began to look the same. Everything felt as if it was moving in on him, his world was getting smaller, it was fading away and was forcing him to live only in his head. A head that was pounding, exhausted, fed up and growing tired of listening to himself. When there was nothing holding you up, nothing to show there was a point to all this, when there was no one capable of putting a smile on your face, he understood how a person could do it. He understood it very well.
    The train eventually stopped at Tara Street Station and the door opened with a hissing sound, like the loosening of a mineral-bottle lid. It had the same effect as a birdcage being opened; out through the door they all fluttered, tiredly bumping into one other as they walked at different paces downstairs and on into the fresh air. The sun was rising over O’Connell Bridge, the buildings casting shadows on the pavements. Steven walked in and out of the darkness as he moved with the rolling crowd, just one more body, just another meaningless overactive mind churning on a crowded city pavement.
    Two thousand six hundred and four steps to the bank. They all marched on in full uniform to the beat of a drum. Forty-eight steps downstairs to his office, where he took his position in the firing line and awaited the moment Gerard Rush, his boss, would give him the good news.
    Twelve noon sharp, and the door to Steven’s office opened, banging against his desk. Gerard popped his head around the door. His face said it all. His complexion was grey and his expression grim.
    ‘I’m sorry, Steven. They decided to go with Andy in the end. I fought for you, I really did.’ Gerard sat before him, his back almost touching the door of the small office. His voice was sincere, his apology genuine.
    The promotion was the one thing he had had to look forward to, so much so that it had become the solution to every problem. Everything would be all right when he got the job. It was the crutch that had helped him limp along. It wasn’t a lifelong ambition, it wasn’t his aim in life to sit behind padded porridge screens leafing through files, it was just that there was nothing else. There were no other distractions, no other goals or interests. It was all there, every little hope in the world pinned right on the promotion. His last crutch had been taken away and now he was falling.
    The woman’s voice from the train came back to him—
He wouldn’t have felt a thing—
and suddenly there was clarity. He had found another crutch, albeit a temporary one.
    Gerard watched him—his grey and wrinkled face full of concern—expecting him to scream, shout and fire the stapler at his head. The strip lighting buzzed loudly in the silence that ensued. But Steven smiled, a big broad smile that Gerard hadn’t seen for years.
    ‘No worries, Gerard, I understand,’ he beamed, his eyes lighting up.
    Gerard looked confused. ‘You’re sure?’
    ‘Yep,’ he chirped, leaning back in his bony chair, looking around his closet-sized office proudly. He repeated confidently, ‘Yep. Absolutely.’
    ‘OK.’ Gerard nodded quickly, confused by his reaction. ‘Well, that’s a great attitude to have, I must say. Do you want to take a break or anything, get a breath of fresh air?’ He studied his face closely.
    Steven laughed. ‘Yes, actually, I will in a while, but in the meantime I’ll get back to work on this lot. He picked up a pile of papers and banged them down on front of him, the dust bouncing up from the old table.
    ‘Right.’ Gerard paused. ‘OK.’ He stood up and got ready to leave. ‘I’m very sorry, Steven,’ he said sincerely, holding out his hand.
    Steven looked up from the stack of papers and took Gerard’s hand. ‘Thanks, Gerard.’ He grasped his handtighter, holding on that little bit longer. ‘Thanks for everything.’ His voice was gentle.
    ‘No problem, Steven. It’s my pleasure.’ He gulped lightly, not liking the change in