Monday, Monday

by Iris Carden

It was the kind of day where you could find out from a Facebook status update that the man you'd been planning your wedding with last night was now back in a relationship with his ex-girlfriend.

That's what happened to Sarah on her first day of unemployment.

"Only on a Monday," Sarah moaned as she unfriended both of them.

She looked at her phone, at the message he'd sent while she slept, only hours before the Facebook status update, telling her how much he loved her.

"I love you too," she said sadly. What she typed was, "Congratulations on your new relationship. Don't ever contact me again."

The ex should have stayed under whatever rock it was she'd crawled under years ago, and not just emerged last week to destroy Sarah's life.

Alone and jobless.

What had been wrong with her being happy?  She demanded God tell her why this should happen to her, but God didn't answer.

Life, it seemed, hated her. Life, or was it Monday?

Was 6am too early to drink? On a Monday like this, surely not. But she would not do that. She would eat her breakfast, take something for the headache that was bearing down on her and go back to bed.

She ate, mechanically, not enjoying her food.

Then she got the pills. All of them. She had been very sick. And the pills were still there. It seemed to take for ever to swallow all of them. But what else did she have to do with that Monday? So she took the time, and she took the pills.

Then she went back to bed, and waited for it all to be over.

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