Colors of Immortality by J.M. Muller EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
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- Author: J.M. Muller
- Language: English
- Genre: Dragons & Mythical Creatures Fantasy
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Day of Postponement
I was screwed.
Like, big-time screwed.
That was my sole thought as I stood outside Mick’s Grocery and
stared across the lot. Something was wrong, although I couldn’t quite
determine what that something was.
All around me, life ambled along—carts squeaked, a bratty kid
screamed, an old couple bickered—everyone and everything was in fluid
Everyone except me.
I’d morphed into a dimwitted mouth-breather, too stupid and slow to
process the sight in front of me.
It was because my truck was off. With its faded paint and dented body,
it was the same motorized monstrosity it had been earlier. That much hadn’t
changed. Unworthy of the nobler spaces closer up, I parked it in its rightful
place—far from the store. I’d always assumed it couldn’t get any worse,
that is, until I spotted what was wrong.
It was leaning.
My eyes went straight to a single, misshapen tire.
“Son of a—” I started, stopping short when I remembered my uniform.
A complaint to management about an employee swearing on company
grounds was write-up worthy. Even without a name, they’d know it was me.
All they’d have to say was: young, blond male, and I’d have earned my
third strike. I would be unemployed in a millisecond, and it wouldn’t matter
that I was off the clock.
In a fit, I ripped off the idiotic bow tie I wore and shoved it into my
pocket. My eyes darted from bumper to bumper in a visual sweep as I
stalked across the lot.
I found no new scratches—at least no new obvious scratches—and my
gas latch was intact. I ran my hands along the tread, searching for gashes
and holes. My gut told me this wasn’t bad luck, but something deliberate.
Considering the crappy past few days, it wasn’t a huge leap.
But the only thing out of place was a missing valve cap. That wasn’t a
big deal. I’d lost them before, and as long as the valve remained clear of
debris, the air stayed put. Of course, someone could’ve purposely drained it,
but the time it would take to empty the tire would require serious balls.
Even tucked in the back, my truck had a way of drawing attention. You
couldn’t not look at it. It was almost like a work of art gone terribly wrong.
No. This wasn’t intentional, just bad luck.
And I could handle bad luck.
I let out a shaky breath, relieved that sabotage wasn’t part of the
equation. It’s one thing to have the universe hell-bent on destroying you.
It’s another when an anonymous asshole takes up the job.
I used my apron to wipe the grime from my hands and unlocked the cab.
I’d have to call Tony and stall him. Mr. Greenwich, my tub-of-lard boss,
had made me late by fifteen crucial minutes.
He did it on purpose too.
I made the mistake of telling him I had plans right after my shift. So,
naturally, minutes before I was set to clock out, he tasked me with bathroom
And when I reminded him I had to leave straightaway, he altered his
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