Bored.

His last day on Earth was the longest.

He had booked two days off from work, one for Summer Solstice and one for his birthday the following day. He was going to be thirty. The realisation had been growing in him. While he knew it was an arbitrary number in his life, thirty felt like a milestone. The party years were past, the close knit band of friends were slowly separating into their own lives. Now each meet up required planning, and there were always absences. He’d been clinging on to the past but over the last year or two the restlessness had been growing in him. At first he had been just wanted to patch up the relationships with his friends and rebuild the past, but as the itch of restlessness grew so did his clarity. His friends were absorbed in relationships and families and careers, they, he felt, had their lives together, while he was just going through the motions. They were only going to drift further apart. He would have to move on, things couldn’t go back.

Admitting his ties to the past were fraying he started to examine the present. He wasn’t in a romantic relationship, his family and friends were becoming more estranged, he was renting, he was working in a warehouse. In other words, there was nothing keep him here. His restlessness had moved up several gears. For the past year he’d been window shopping jobs and accommodation in Cornwall or Scotland, as well as looking into the possibility of emigrating. He didn’t know where he wanted to go, he just knew he couldn’t stay where he was. It had grown from an itch of discontent into a frantic obsession.

The approach of thirty had brought it all to a head. He felt if he was to let another year pass he would still be here in another decade, and by then he’d have gone mad with impotent wanderlust. He’d arranged a meet with his friends for the night time. He felt sure most of his friends would attend. They were going to go an old haunt, a bunch of rocks on a hilltop that they had, with youthful imagination, decided was a Stone Circle. It all felt fitting. Watching the longest day end in the Stone Circle with his friends. A last hurrah. Then before midnight, before his thirtieth, he would tell them he was leaving. Tomorrow he was going to number his destination options and roll a die. Thirty year old him was going to start a new life.

Knowing this was all happening, that he’d finally committed and was going to be actively pursuing his escape plan within a day, he slept soundly for what felt like the first time in years.

He awoke just before 10 am. He came awake with a start, instantly aware today was the day this life ended. As he got ready he checked his mobile for messages. Nothing of import. His friends would be at work, so he thought that no news was probably good news. He poured some cereal and ate it at the table, next to the destination packs he’d printed off. The die sat on the top of the stack. It would be the work of a moment to number the packs, roll the die and decide his fate. But that was the action and the destiny of 30 year old him. 29 year old him had to prepare for one last party with his friends.

He checked the weather forecast, sunny and hot today, with a clear night. Perfect. He had enough weed for the night, so he just had to stock up on beer. He wandered to the off licence. He felt like he was saying goodbye to everything he’s ever know. Goodbye post box. Goodbye zebra crossing. Goodbye office licence person. He found he was loving it. He’d expected some last minute jitters, feared a sudden collapse of confidence or that the ties that bind would be too strong. Instead he felt a weight lifting with each goodbye. He didn’t expect to be able to move for at least a month but now he had a definite start date, he felt it was really going to happen.