The digital face of the watch glowed. Brought to life by the roaming fingers peaking out from under the covers. A blurry eyed look at the numbers was met with incredulity, that time wasn't right; it couldn't be right. Her eyes closed in willful hopefulness and her body slowly rolled out from under the bedspread. She looked again.

Her eyes weren't deceiving her, the clock really did show that she was an hour late. Palms rubbing away the sleep, she stood up, got light headed, and sat back down. Slapping her cheeks lightly, she tried again. Slowly this time, she shuffled to the dresser against the wall. With no time to spare, her outfit for the day was quickly assembled and donned and she rushed to the bathroom.

Multitasking, she brushed her teeth while taking care of the morning needs. Only washing her face quickly with water and skipping any beautification she might have done if the clock was an hour behind rather than forward. Gargling and rinsing, she finished her hurried routine and moved to the hall to slip on a pair of flats. Stepping out of her apartment and locking the door, she shuffled groggily to the parking lot. A single unhappy word her only answer to the events of her morning: Monday.

comments powered by Disqus