The Darkness Glowing

The Darkness Glowing

Ryan Merino

04/23/2026

*clank, clank, clank, clank*

My every footstep sounding a high-pitched alarm from the thin metal platform beneath me. I reach the door and raise my hand to knock. My hand swipes through the air as the door opens simultaneously, causing me to stumble forward a bit.

“Sorry…” a smile came across his face. “I heard you coming.” He said while stifling a laugh.

“Thanks” I walk past him, making sure to give him a little shove with my shoulder. Derek and I have been friends since ’98. We met in middle school and headed into high school together at the start of the 22nd century. He’s a crass know it all with a slick tongue. I mean there is no winning an argument with him, even if you’re right. He has this ability to make you feel stupid. It’s what annoys me the most about him, but it’s also probably what I appreciate the most. It’s like there’s a demon and an angel on either shoulder, and then there’s Derek calling them both wrong.

I throw my bag off my shoulder and slump lifeless onto the couch. I take a sip of water from the aluminum can on the table and put my head in my hands.

“What’s wrong?” Derek asked. He’d been waiting since the moment he opened the door, he just wanted to see a physical sign of resignation. Sometimes he catches on too early and he’ll ask when I don’t want to be asked and I’ll get all angry or defensive or both and then we can’t talk for like two hours. So he waits.

“They said they’d alert me when they were sure, but I sensed a tone” I said in one breath.

“… a tone?” Derek raised his right eyebrow. Condescending prick.
“Yes, a fucking tone!”

“A tone how?”

“You know what I mean. Like it wasn’t really a ‘Hey, we’ll let you know,’ but more of a ‘we’re gonna keep lookin cause it ain’t you’”

“You don’t know that”

“Well I-"

“No.” He cut me off “You really don’t know that, I know you don’t know that. you can’t look me in the eye and say for a fact you won’t be contacted.”

“So?” I asked

“Sooooo, stop complaining. All the time, all day, it’s incessant. I didn’t know it was possible to be 24 and be that miserable already. You’re feeling bad about something you only think will… or in this case… won’t happen. Not to mention, it’s not like you don’t have a job. You have a fuckin job, you just don’t like it.”

“Do I need to know something is gonna happen to worry about it? Or think about it? It may not be very real to you but that feeling is real to me. I’m not choosing to be this way.”

“My goodness, a 12 week intro to philosophy class and now all of a sudden you’re Kierkegaard. It is your choice. Maybe not to feel that way, but you choose how you react. Do you think I don’t feel angry when a snapper breaks the line or a manatee is crossing and we gotta shut down for the next hour? I feel very angry, but it can only ruin my day and others if I start acting angry. If I put on a scowl and I stomp around and I snap at everyone that walks past me, I don’t feel any better. If anything all that just makes me feel a bit angrier. It’s about control.”

“Yeah, one anger management course and you’re Gandhi.”

“You’re helpless.”

“I know.”

We kept eye contact for a few more seconds until he eventually turned and walked away. I won that part of the exchange at least.
I woke up the next morning in the same spot on the couch. I walked to the hall and saw Derek’s door was open, meaning he already left for work. They get most of their work in when the moon is strong and waters high, rest of the year they’re kinda just jerking off on a platform with nets and cages. I work for a construction company; we’ve been building platforms over Key Biscayne for about two years now, they even started building stuff up on the platforms. Some of the old stuff is there, only what they wanted to preserve like the lighthouse. Stiltsville is still there, I guess they were planning a century or two ahead. Now all of Key Biscayne is on stilts, but they still just call it Key Biscayne. They turned the Naval Air Station in Key West into a full sized base in like ’71, I believe, when the government finally paid off the last 1000 people who would sell their land. I’ve seen pictures of Florida from a hundred years ago, so much green, both the pretty bright and the ugly swampy kind. Now from the Keys to Pompano Beach its webs of steel beams platforms. I believe it was some point in the 40s when the Governor at the time, I don’t know who, got funding and approval for a massive construction project preparing to change South Florida’s infrastructure. Well 65 years and hundreds of billions of dollars later and they turned Florida into a glorified aircraft carrier. I hate my job, I hate being another brush dipped in black paint, just blocking out the beauty, the reality.

I step outside and as I grip the steel rail that lines the walkway I look out into a sea of hot steam and cold metal, the only two sites in this part of town. The areas that are still mainly above water or only have an inch or two, they go on like normal. Small dams and reservoirs and elevated streets, all so the people can wear their suede shoes. That’s where all the nice stores and houses are.

I’ve been interviewing for different jobs whenever I can. Always related to my studies, a paralegal position, a political analyst position here, etc. I threw on my cheap blazer, grabbed my leather shoulder bag that was gifted to me by my grandmother, and I went out the door. One more interview this month, with a Mr. Harris Esq. I can’t say I’m necessarily looking forward to it though, he is an attorney, but the position is to be his secretary. Not a position I’ve necessarily aspired to. I get in my car and I head to the shiny white that stood amongst its surroundings like a large lifeless block set in the center of an even more lifeless gray plot of land. I parked my car as far from the building as possible, I like to use the walk to calm my nerves and think. This time I didn’t feel any relief. I felt worse with every step, the buildings shape growing larger and more dominating with every step, towering over me and the empty parking lot. Broad daylight, birds chirping, wind blowing, all the typical signs of a typical day. But I was somewhere else. The song of the birds brought me no comfort, I heard nothing but the pounding of my own heart in my ears. My hand gripped one of the long, thin, brass handles of the double doors at the front. I took one deep breath and pulled. The door weighed about fifty pounds, I had to push off my feet to get it to swing open enough for me to walk inside. As soon as I stepped in and let go of the door, it slammed shut behind me. I looked around to see this ornate design on the smooth tile floor. The walls covered in plaques, letters from royalty and photos shaking hands with politicians. I was merely a tourist in their world of high brow hypocrisy.

“Can I help you?” A sharp voice echoed across the floor.

I snapped my head to where it came from to see a woman sitting behind a counter. How I didn’t see her before I didn’t know. I approached her and apologized for just barging in, I explained I was there for an interview.

“Oh yes, that’s right. You can have a seat right over there, I’m sure Mr Harris will be with you soon.”

I sat down on the huge cushy chair she had gestured to. It’s the kind of chair that looks really comfy but when you actually sit in it, you realize how poorly designed it actually is. It was lumpy and you sink in certain positions. I could tell it was genuine leather though. I guess that’s all they really care about.

I kept looking at the receptionist. She was young, probably only a couple years older than me. Pretty too. She was wearing this light brown sweater vest over a thin orange button down, she was very stylish. I couldn’t see her legs but I imagine she was wearing a nice skirt and pantyhose or maybe some khakis. I gotta say, I love a girl who can rock some dickies. The whole time I waited, she was reading something. Her glasses were a bit too loose or too heavy so they kept sliding down her nose, every three minutes or so she have to push them up to keep reading. She pushed her glasses up thirty two times before finally her phone rang. She picked it up and after two seconds she hung up. He’s ready for you, follow me. She stood up and came around the counter. She’s wearing khakis. She guided me down a hall to a door and knocked on it. Five seconds later, an old man opens the door. The man from the photos. Mr. Harris.

“Thank you, Olivia, I’ll take it from here.” Said the man.

Olivia, that’s her name, what a beautiful name. Olivia turned around and whispered good luck before walking back down the hall and out of sight.

“Well, how are we doing today young man?”

“Fantastic.” I said, with as much enthusiasm as I could fake. Every interview it’s always the same question. I always say the same thing. They don’t actually care if you’ve had a good day or not, they just wanna know if you’re the type to complain.

“Great, well let’s get started.” He pulled back a plastic chair with metal legs from the visitor’s side of his desk and he told me to sit. He then sat himself in his big, cushioned rolling chair.

“What brings you here today?” You know how the rest of this goes. What’s your experience, what do you bring the table, why you and not someone else, all that boring stuff.

After an hour of mental gymnastics and bringing my best bullshit to the table, I had him. I knew I had him. I had the guy laughing at my jokes, I knew this job was a lock. The longer I sat there in that cold plastic chair. The longer my eyes were met with gold plated picture frames and murano glasses on the window sill. The longer my ears heard the hum of the fluorescent lights and his snotty laugh. The more I resented myself. I spent all these years dreaming of being in this rooms, I dreamed of an escape from the soulless servitude of industry. There isn’t any more soul here. Monuments to greed and deceit. They are all tools like I am, just a prettier tool that thinks highly of itself. Three hours in that building and I knew instantly I didn’t wanna spend another second in there.

“Well, young man, I see some bright things in your future” he said as he stood up, extending his hand out to me. “What do you say we get you started the beginning of next month?”

“I..- I’ll let you know” I could see the look in his eyes, a shift from enthusiasm to insult. I didn’t wait to hear a response. I turned around and walked out of his office, shutting the door behind me. I walked back out to the lobby and made eyes at Olivia. I thought about saying something, maybe asking her to dinner but I was more focused on getting out of that fucking building.

“Goodbye!” She chirped at me from across the lobby. I smiled and waved before walking out.

The moment the door shut behind me I smacked myself in the forehead. Cursing to myself.

“Really dumbass? You wave at her? That’s it?” I thought.

But it was too late, I wasn’t gonna turn around and open the heavy door cause then she’ll know I opened the heavy door just to say goodbye to her and that’s a little weird.

This time I heard the birds, quiet, but they were there. I made it to my car at the back of the lot. I got in and headed back home.

I open the door to see Derek leaning over the kitchen counter, smearing aloe all over his freshly burnt face. We made eye contact and before I could utter a noise he said.

“Shut up, I don’t wanna hear it”

“I didn’t say anything” I said in a singsong voice with a massive grin across my face. I knew I didn’t have to.

“Yeah well… fuck you anyway. So how’d it go?”

“Amazing.”

“Really?”

“Oh yeah, he loved me, we were laughing for hours.”

“Man that’s great, so you got the job?”

“I told him I’d think about it.”

“And did you mean you’d think about it or did you mean you weren’t interested?”

“You know what I meant.”

“Well, you did get a letter from the other firm, you were right. They respectfully declined your application.”

“Honestly, I don’t really care. I’ve come to realize I’m gonna hate what I do anyway.”

“I see. I can’t say I agree but at least you’re at peace, I guess”

“Thanks, Derek. I am.” I thought about it. If there is a peace, a clarity, and there is.

A week later I was at work when I saw it. A flower. A beautiful pink, fully bloomed flower. A flower growing a wire fence.

The beauty is there, in the gray, in the cold steel. Surrounded by a background of darkness and industry, sits the bright summer colors of life. Hidden but never lost. Masked but never destroyed. In the machine, in the droning and sloshing of the day to day. The vibrant South Florida spirit still rings true.

Her dark brown eyes and her curly hair. Her preppy leather loafers and white ruffled socks.
Olivia, Olivia, Olivia, Olivia

For days she’s been on my mind.

As soon as I got off, I rushed home to groom myself. I considered grabbing my blazer but that’s not me, that’s the guy that goes to the job interviews. I left as I was and went right to the white obelisk of doom in its sea of concrete. I parked as close to the building as I could. I stepped up the door and swung it open with ease, the wind blowing my hair from the force. There she was, her nose down in a book. The same or another one I’m not sure. After a couple seconds she glanced up and smiled when her eyes met mine. I waltzed across the smooth tile floor right up to her.

She opened her mouth to let out her typical, how can I help you, but I didn’t let her.

“Would you like to get coffee with me sometime?”

“Yes… yes I would.”