Monday arrived with a heaviness that felt almost cruel. The sun rose over the city in muted tones, as though even the sky understood I wasn't ready to face another day. I hadn't slept well—every time I closed my eyes, I saw Hector's apartment, stripped bare of his presence. It was a sight I couldn't unsee, a nightmare replaying in my mind on an endless loop.
My alarm blared at 6:00 a.m., jarring me from the restless doze I'd finally drifted into sometime after three. For a moment, I lay there, staring at the ceiling, wondering how I was supposed to pretend everything was fine.
But life didn't stop for heartbreak—or mystery. I had a job to do, and if I stayed home, I'd just drive myself insane replaying the events of the past few days. With a groan, I swung my legs over the edge of the bed, blinking at the early light filtering through the curtains. The clock on my nightstand confirmed I had only a couple of hours before I needed to be at the office.
I forced myself through the motions of a morning routine: shower, dress, attempt to eat breakfast. The shower water felt too hot, almost scalding against my skin, but it was the only thing that jolted me into some semblance of wakefulness. I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror afterward—eyes puffy from lack of sleep, cheeks pale. I looked like a ghost of who I was a week ago.
"Pull it together," I muttered to my reflection, running a hand through my damp hair. My reflection didn't offer any reassurance.
In the kitchen, I tried to swallow a piece of toast, but it tasted like cardboard. My stomach churned at the thought of food, so I gave up, rinsed the plate, and left it on the drying rack. It was only Monday, yet it felt like I was dragging the weight of an entire year behind me.
---
The drive to work
By 7:30 a.m., I was on the road, navigating the usual morning traffic. Cars inched forward in stop-and-go patterns, horns blaring sporadically. The city was fully awake, boutiques shops, coffee shops were open for the day and pesdaterians on their way only them knows.
Every time I stopped at a light, my phone taunted me from the passenger seat. I'd left it face-up, hoping—maybe foolishly—that I'd see Hector's name appear, that I'd pick up and hear him say it was all a misunderstanding. But it remained stubbornly silent.
I gripped the steering wheel until my knuckles ached, swallowing the lump in my throat. You're going to work, I told myself. You're going to act normal, do your tasks, and keep your head down. Because falling apart in the office wasn't an option.
---
Arriving at the Office
I pulled into the parking lot of the corporate complex that housed Greenway Marketing, the small but busy firm where I'd worked for the past three years. The building rose against the morning sky, glass reflecting the sunlight. It looked the same as it always did—remarkable, functional, a place where people came to do their jobs and leave. Except everything felt different now. My world had shifted, and yet this building stood as though nothing had changed.
Inside, the cool blast of air conditioning hit me. The lobby was already bustling with coworkers heading to the elevators, some chatting animatedly, others clutching coffee cups like lifelines. I forced a small smile at the security guard, who waved me through with a "Morning, Ms. Reed."
I stepped into the elevator, shoulders tense. Three other people joined me—two I recognized from different departments, one I'd never seen before. They were talking about weekend plans, laughing about a barbecue gone wrong. I stood silently in the corner, wishing I could disappear.
When the doors opened on the fourth floor—my floor—I was the only one to exit. The usual chatter of phones ringing, people greeting each other, and the tap of keyboards filled the open workspace. Normally, I found comfort in that routine hum. Today, it felt overwhelming.
—-
Under Watchful eyes
I made a beeline for my cubicle, ignoring the glances from a few colleagues. They had probably noticed I'd been off since Friday, or maybe they were just curious about the dark circles under my eyes. One of them, Rita, gave me a sympathetic smile as I passed.
"Hey, Sarah," she said softly, stepping out of her cubicle. "Everything okay?"
"Yeah," I lied, returning her smile with one that felt forced. "Just… not feeling great."
Rita studied me for a moment, concerned flickering across her face. "If you need anything, let me know, okay?"
I nodded, mumbling a thanks before slipping into my own workspace. The walls of my cubicle offered minimal privacy, but it was better than standing in the open where everyone could see me unravel.
I dropped into my chair, powered on my computer, and stared at the screen as it booted up. My reflection in the blank monitor looked as worn as I felt. I needed to pull myself together—at least enough to get through the day.