The Rest of the Day
One-ten in the afternoon on a holiday Monday, the Sunday evening blues start to stir, but at least it’ll be a four day work week.
It shouldn’t be this way, for anyone, ever.
If there is a god, and it’s the Abrahamic variant, one has to ask, … what was he thinking when he created us and then threw us out, or even before that, when he created the first day and then made it the day following the Sabbath?
I’ve not always felt this way.
There were the rare times when I was infatuated with someone at the office with whom I was not in a relationship, someone who I only saw at work, never on weekends, someone who fascinated me and stirred inchoate feelings that might have matured into something I once imagined as love.
But I can barely recall what love was, barely even recall believing that it existed.
I wish I could just enjoy the rest of the day.
© Guillermo Calvo Mahé; Manizales, 2016; all rights reserved