The Body
My hand hovers over the handle for a moment, I close my eyes and take a deep breath before opening the door, silently praying that what’s inside won’t be as bad as I fear. The door creaks as I push it. The stench that pours out instantly has me burying my face in my elbow. A shaft of light streaks across the room, ending on the bed where I know the body to be. In semi-darkness, I grab at clothing strewn across the floor, hoping I can get out with as much as possible without waking my teenage son.
Photo by Jack Dixon on Unsplash
Clocking On
It’s upsetting to know that people dislike me so much. I was given this shift; I didn’t choose it. Nobody would ever pick this shift. People start groaning when they know I’m about to take over. It’s not my fault, that’s just how it goes. The ones whose shifts start later in the week have it easy; nobody ever complains about seeing them. Especially the weekend guys, people plan what they are going to do with them months in advance. What can you do, huh? I just have to get on with it. My name’s Monday by the way.
Photo by Annie Spratt on Unsplash