Colors of the Day

Colors of the Day
Frowning, loosening a purple tie, Tony pushed through the golden revolving doors of a skyscraper. He drifted into the crowded midtown street, as if in a daze. He was roused to his senses, as his cell phone sent out the melody of his wedding song. “Perfect timing as usual,” he thought shutting off the phone. His memory flashing back to the whiteness of his wife’s gown that happy day. She would assume he was still in the interview, which had gone so terribly he was ashamed to speak to her. He imagined she was shaking her head in shame at his negligence to turn the device off in the first place.
Tony needed to blow off some steam. After all, he did just make the biggest mistake of his life. He wandered franticly searching for a place that served spirits. He pulled a cigarette out of his sports coat. He took very long drags from the white stick hoping to relieve stress. The phone sounded again, but he did not have the heart to inform her of the catastrophe that occurred on the 44th floor of the building, besides he found a bar.
The alcohol backhanded him the moment he stepped onto the sidewalk. He paused, gathering his wits. Tony snarled in a savage manner at a political poster on the bar’s front window. The senate’s most liberal member was likely to be the next president. He shuddered at the thought. Would the economy ever shake its slump if taxes were raised and regulations tightened? Most states were trending blue. Citizens were fed up with red. Or is it the other way around? He wondered, suddenly confused, as he stumbled down the road.
The government did not even check if one were truly in need. It handed out money without consideration. He felt low, dirty, and part of the entitlement mentality that plagued the nation. He tried to rationalize it by telling himself he was simply recouping the taxes that had been plundered from his check, but he could not fool himself. He wondered if it were time to leave New York for a state more.