All Pain, No Gain.

A short story by Ben Saltiel

In October, I wrote and published my debut short story to Substack, titled The Latte Legislator. While the article didn’t perform as well as others, there was enough positive feedback that I decided it was worth attempting a second one.

Given this is coming out in late December, this story can be considered a holiday story, so long as you consider Die Hard to be a Christmas movie.

I hope you enjoy this story, If this is not for you, I have plenty of other articles for you to check out (see list below) and I will be returning to regularly scheduled programming next week. If you do like this and want to see more in the future, let me know and I might publish more in the future.

If this week’s article does not interest you, please check out some other recent ones:

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“All Pain, No Gain” by Ben Saltiel

Am I dead? I wake up with an absolutely throbbing headache.

Sunlight streams through the window—late morning or early afternoon, probably. My nightstand’s knocked over, the alarm clock’s unplugged. The room’s a wreck: clothes are scattered, drawers are out, wide open. Looks like I had quite a time last night.

I struggle to my feet and hobble over to the bathroom, in the adjoining room. That blinding light isn’t helping. I think I hear something, a faint shuffle. Probably just the neighbor through the thin walls. I open the bathroom door, then notice it’s occupied.

“Sorry about that!” I call out as I slam the door shut , then notice even my bathroom products are scattered on the floor of the bedroom next to me. I pick them up then call out “I’m just going to go brush my teeth in the kitchen, take your time!” I can’t make out the muffled response through the closed door.

As I enter the hallway, I step on a piece of broken glass. What the f#ck is that doing here? Grabbing my foot in my hand, I hop on one foot into the kitchen and settle on a stool. The glass is one solid piece, only a few centimeters in diameter. Not very deep, small enough to remove without danger. I pull it out and grab a napkin to soak up the blood that seeps out of the wound.

Looking around the kitchen, I see that my first aid kit is conveniently already open on the floor next to me. Then the rest of the room comes to and I see it’s in a similar state to the bedroom. A huge mess. Furniture toppled over, removed drawers lying in the middle of the floor. Man, what did I get up to?

As I apply a bandage to my foot, I try to retrace my steps. It was my work’s holiday party, which started early, around 7pm. I don’t think I had much to drink; maybe one glass of wine? I never get drunk at work functions. Did I go somewhere after?

Glancing around the room, I search for clues that could help. What the hell, did I seriously forget to hang up my favorite Loro Piana suit? It’s so wrinkled, I’m going to need to steam it. My Ferragamo shoes, not too far away, are toppled over with the soles facing one another. Glancing around, I see a few of my other expensive suits, shoes, and watches in a pile on the couch. As usual I probably couldn’t decide what to wear. Can’t believe I didn’t at least hang them back up after, I must have really been bombed out.

I limp to the kitchen, grab a cracked mug, and fire up the coffee machine. The first sip hits hard, but it helps. I immediately make another.

After the holiday party I remember meeting up with some people. We went to that cocktail bar, the one with the bathtub in the middle and no sign. We didn’t stay out that late though, did we? I quickly brush my teeth in the sink, looking at the time on the stove I see it’s 11:24 AM. Thank God I don’t need to work today.

I head to my office in the next room. Great, now where’s my laptop? I don’t see my bag either. I must have left it at work before dinner. I guess I’ll need to get that later. Limping back to the bedroom, I see my phone on the ground poking out from under one of my sweaters. Picking it up, I see 20 notifications. I sit down on my bed, covered in my clothes and other personal affects. I really hope the maid is coming today, I should still tidy up a bit before she arrives. Otherwise it won’t be cleaning up, it will be hurricane relief.

These notifications were mostly people tagging Instagram stories from the work dinner or a few group chat text messages I didn’t open from last night. Going through the conversations, it seemed like we left the bar fairly early. I checked the AMEX app, and there are no big charges. Why am I in such rough shape this morning? I don’t think my head has ever hurt this much from drinking before. Reaching up to my temple, I feel a huge bump. Well, that would explain it. Using the camera on my phone, I see a huge bruise and red mark just over my left eye. How did I get this?

Seeing the bathroom door closed. I guess it’s still occupied. They’re certainly taking their time. I sit back down on the bed. To avoid the bright light, I face the corner with my back to the window and bathroom door. I go back to scrolling aimlessly on my phone, checking out what’s happening on Instagram. Nothing interesting. Flipping over to ESPN.com. All my teams lost last night, that sucks. My landlord texted me, asking if everything was alright? Some neighbors said they had heard some loud noises. That’s embarrassing, I apologize and promise that we’ll keep it down.

Suddenly it hits me. I don’t have a roommate. I snap to my feet, my spine starts to tingle. Who is that in the bathroom? Just as I turn to face the bathroom door, I hear the sound of it creaking open. A masked stranger dressed in black steps out and grunts “Toss your phone over right now, or I’ll slug you again!”

****The End****

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