Open your eyes, your vision unfogs to morning light. Transition from dreams to consciousness.
What day is it? Slow realization: Monday.
Claw the air with knurled fists. Moan your anguish to an uncaring universe. “Why, God!” But there is no God, at least not this morning.
Get up. Go to work. Hurl yourself onto the freeway. Run through the concrete maze, Rat. Run, Rat! Run!
The first phone call of the day stings dully, like the lash of a whip against a scabbed, callused back.
Crawl through the morning, towards the morsel of rancid cheese that is your lunch hour. It’s recess in the school of smothered dreams.
Sit at your desk. Stare at the monitor. Excel spreadsheet. Back away, into your mind. Scrape together the dry, crumbling remnants of your humanity. Scatter them with an angry sweep of your hand.
Crawl through the hours, scrabbling blindly in the shadow of the spectre of unemployment that looms overhead. Crawl faster! Don’t you feel its hot, fetid breath on the back of your neck? Faster!
End of day. You leap towards the exit, to freedom. Get into your metal box, lurch homeward in the necrotic light.
Thursday! So close now. The weekend! Working, working for the weekend.
Hold on for one more day!
Just hold on!