There was traffic this morning on my way to work. It’s just another Monday, I think to myself as I walk to the kitchen to brew coffee. The machine is black and sometimes splatters coffee outside my cup. The kitchen is never fully clean anyway.
I find a plate of brownies and four boxes ready to ship out with USPS waiting for me. The front desk is tidy and I’m happy in my calm environment. I answer the phone when it rings. Good morning, how can I help you? I log onto my desktop, check my mail, read the news. The air is barely moving but at least it’s cool.
An account executive approaches with a list of seven names and addresses, cards and labels. They need to be sent out today, she tells me. Ok, I answer as she walks away. I’m told where to find the boxes, they're flat and waiting to be formed. There are also more address labels and packing popcorn. Soon I’m bombarded by four more account executives, each with another seven or eight addressed labels and cards. They place them on my desk and walk away.
By lunch time I’ve only finished packaging eight. There are 23 boxes still waiting. I am no longer calm, my insides are tied, my head is floating. The phone won’t stop ringing. I can’t answer the calls. I’m tense and emotional; I push off lunch. I need to finish, I say, these need to go out. Would it be possible for you to come back and cover for me later?
My desk is a shipping disaster. Tape is stuck to the desk so the edge doesn’t get lost, the small scissors I’m given barely cut the tape fully in two, the popcorn is everywhere, the contents are strewn about waiting in haste for me to pack them. Hurry, they say, we want to go too. I’m trying to be as fast as I can, I reply, I want you shipped more than you know.
My environment is calm and my desk is tidy, I’m not happy. I take lunch an hour late; I walk around and shop. I don’t buy anything. It’s raining outside even though it’s a clear day. I’m wet and cold and shivering. My body aches and nothing fits. They’re screaming at me, but I can’t hear an individual voice. I call Ace. I plug my ears so the yelling stops and I cry. Will you take me to the beach? Of course, Babe, let’s go now.
I run to him. I run faster than the noise, faster than the rain. The air is racing and my heart is punching my chest. There’s blood on my feet and hands. He’s there to clean me up when I reach home. My clothes dry when he holds me, my heart relaxes. I just want to go. Of course, Babe, I’m taking you now.
It’s dark and the stars are awake. The breeze off the ocean fills my lungs as we lay together in the sand. I hold him close, my head in his neck. I feel him breathing, slowly, deeply. We’re alone and I relax into his chest. Coldplay plays in the background as he sings to me softly. Each wave takes with it a piece of my day.
We stare together into the night; the horizon glows in the distance. I’ve missed you all day. I have too, Babe… I always do. The Arctic Monkeys quietly fill the night. I want you forever, I whisper. Baby, I’m yours.
So good! I love it!
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