Sometimes a Quick Short Story Will Do

I don't know how many of you know this, but I really like to think of new things and ideas and creations through my imagination. Yes, it does get me into some dark spots and unseemingly(really? unseemingly is not a word? Irregardless...hah) sad times. However, I feel that if I really want to share my imaginative side or write a story without worrying about how it might get criticized,I just have to do it and live with the unknowing future. It will be bright if I start doing what I want to do and stop thinking of what I want to do and play out the long, unexpected outcomes that can eventually lead into a waste of time and life. Blah. So, without much further adieu...yes, I spel checked...a short story (fiction) by myself, titled: "I Don't Know What to Title This Because I Haven't Fully Written It Yet" Work can clog the mind which in fact clogs the time. Clog your mind, clog the time. Easy, peasy to understand. Harder to overcome. I just clocked out of work rushing to get home to workout because that is what a good little boy I am. Always trying to make a routine, so I don't forget something important that will affect my long-term outcome of being a fit and responsible adult in a world that terrifies me whenever I think about it. Let me pull this back a bit. I do a routine of work, come home, grab the mail(usually junk), work out, eat dinner and then sit...watch Netflix, HBOGo, Youtube, the necessities of moving pictures on my television set. I do have goals. These goals are to get a job I love and pays for all my expenses and helps me save. Do I have a clear direction where that is? No. Do I know how I will achieve this dream? No. Probably because this dream is too open and vague to be even considered a SMART goal. Anyways, I do what I am told. I ask for guidance. I run along like the well trained human I should be. Doesn't mean my mind doesn't wander. That's probably my only reason for sanity. Sure, it can drive me to think unnecessary things and blunder my night because I am not surrounding myself with other people in a fun social life. Whatever. This is not about my philosophical thoughts or choices in the world, whatever they may be. This is about only one slip up and choice. I did my routine. I woke up. I changed into work clothes. I opened the blinds to let the sun in while I was away from my apartment. I worked hard. I clocked out. I came home. I worked out. I made dinner (some pizza pockets sounded good). I ate and then sat to lose my mind in the expanse of TV shows and movies or as I sometimes call it, the pandering and boring background to my begrudging and pointless thoughts. Wait, I thought, did I forget to do something in my routine? What could I have missed? It's pretty straight forward and some might even say bland. Heck (PG-version), I call it bland. So, what could be so boring and very easy to forget? Right...getting the mail. I quickly put on some flip flop sandals, considering the distance to the mailbox from my door these shabby soles will do. I rushed to the mailbox, inserted my key, and opened it up to find....nothing. That's probably why I forgot about it entirely that day. Mail, mail go away. Come again some other time I do not necessarily need you. Doesn't rhyme but it fits the feeling of how opening an empty mailbox is. So, I decided to run back to the apartment. That is when one glint came within my peripheral vision. I had already turned around, but my eyes followed the signal back towards the sets of mailboxes. I'm sure some of you fellow apartment residents know that mailboxes for the whole building are stacked neatly together in one location. Every resident has a key to their specific apartment room number mailbox and if you lose the key, you pay an annoying fine. Well, that glint was nothing special. I figured it may as well could have been the set-in keys they use for packages. Nope. This was a random key that was clicked into it's specific mailbox for room number 0. Now, as if this is not odd enough, the apartment numbers usually have actual numbers in sequential order. This mailbox was dead center of the whole set, but labeled 0. My apartment number, 315 was only a couple boxes away. Yet, there it was. The mysterious mailbox compartment of apartment zero. My first instinct: open up the mailbox. My second instinct: Idiot, that is illegal. Take the key and turn it into the main office. Third instinct(because a thinker doesn't stop thinking when they want to): That tenant/resident could be coming back any moment, just a slight lapse of the moment or maybe they are moving out and thought it best to just leave their key in the box. As I have said before, I will think every possibility until I drudge it through the Earth's lower crust. I decided to go with the third option and head back to my apartment. However, making passive decisions usually leads to more thinking than before. I thought about that key for the next few hours. Should I go check back on it? Should I call the main office, even though it's after hours? Should I somehow find apartment 0 and hand the key to the resident? Should I just stop overthinking, go to bed and get over it? Well, I chose going to bed...restlessly. Why does the key freak me out this bad? Is it the key freaking me out or the apartment number mailbox that I am pretty sure has never been there before? So, instead of being well rested for work, I didn't sleep. I even woke up three hours earlier than I usually do. I took my time getting ready for work. The entire idea of this key was taking too much of my time. I should be focusing on how to get through my day and reach towards my long-term goals. I was all ready and heading out of my apartment and there it was. The key. The mailbox. All still there. That's it. I'm taking it to the main office. I reached for the key with my fingers. It seems dramatized thinking about it now, but I felt energy enveloping my hand as I started reaching for the key. I grabbed the key and instead of pulling it out of the lock, I turned it and opened it. I was expecting some crazy light or some overflowing mail to pour out or even a rodent to pop out. It opened with ease and inside was one envelope. There was no address, no stamp or any other writing except for a name. Mine. To be continued... Alright, well this is all I wanted to share with you because this is just what pops into my mind sometimes. Remember, this is a story that is just something that comes up when I start to overthink the simplest of things. If you want to read more or would like to see my write more or even just would like to edit/criticize/proofread/etc., please just let me know! Otherwise, the rest will be written soon. This story seems to want to be written.