The credits rolled on Giant. Fortier cracked his knuckles, living in a permanent daydream.
He brushed past the sports clippings, framed, faded.
He grabbed his keys.
The small brass tag said “Employee of the Year”.
His mom had his homecoming king photo on the nightstand at assisted living.
He should visit, but he didn’t.
James Dean would be 89 today.
He coulda been James Dean, Fortier told himself.
He always told himself that.
His father’s favorite word was “paycheck” and he cowardly followed that path.
James Dean would have been 89.
Fortier drove fast to visit his mother after all.
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Author’s Note: Originally published on Feb. 8 2020
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Photo by Austrian National Library on Unsplash