Stale Mornings

If there was a question as to why they must have seen I didn’t have the strength to answer. To see myself unveiled in front of those people would have been a disaster. I knew my emotional capacity for these sort of exchanges had reached its limit. Let me fall prey to whatever lay on the other side of that door. Just a few more steps and I could make it home free. They all just kept staring as if to say they had ran out of ammunition. There was no longer a reason to try and rein in the chaos that had obviously consumed me, at this point I was truly on my own.

As soon as I heard the door shut behind me all the contents of my stomach made its way over the railing. Everything I had been holding inside seemed to drain from me as I felt the tears gently rolling down my face. I quickly wiped my mouth with my rain soaked coat sleeve and checked my purse for my keys. As soon as my sunglasses were on I walked expertly from the house as if nothing had occurred. It was a walk I had taken many times before and yet somehow this time it felt different. This time I had jumped off the cliff with no parachute what so ever. All chances of a safety net at the bottom had been removed. I wiped away the last remaining tear and applied my jungle red lipstick. Finally I started the car only to come to one final realization, this wasn’t my car. These weren’t my keys. Something else I would have to explain later I thought as I drove away. 
The diner smelled of burnt meat and stale coffee. I collapsed into a booth with nothing but the thought of eggs on my mind as I heard a familiar voice. 

“Back again? Two days in a row you must be having a rough week.” Sheryl the waitress handed me a menu and a cup of coffee with that all knowing grin. 

As she walked away I took off my sunglasses and slowly consumed the day old coffee, which at that moment felt like the only thing keeping my body intact. I searched out the window for signs of life besides my own. Some sort of reality that had a chance of survival. I saw an old man opening the car door for his wife. They looked close to eighty and barely hanging on. Still I couldn’t help but notice the way they smiled at each other. The type of smiles that suggested they could die tomorrow with no regrets. Hangovers tended to make melodramatic. Well hangovers and nervous breakdowns. The soon to be second phase in this day, that I was sure was already well on its way. However, all breakdowns would have to wait until I had finished my eggs. Any other way would be uncivilized.

 

Alexandria