Mondays. On Mondays, I do not experience Monday blues like every other adult. There really isn’t much difference in my life whatever the day is. Mondays. On Mondays, the neighbour kid wears a white shirt and blue pants, with black shoes. He pets his dog one last time before getting onto the scooter with his dad. The mother waves and sends them off. There are no cows on the road. The veg restaurant remains moderately busy. The highway underpass seems darker than usual. There’s this guy who passes by me every day infant of the police station. Every day he wears a yellow shirt with the “Bingo’ logo on it and a badge. Does he work at the factory where they make Bingos? On Tuesdays people slowly get settled into reality. I’m still floating. I wear light green to look fresh and bright. I plug in my earphones while walking to the bus stop. Women wearing green and yellow night dresses wait outside the dairy farm to collect milk. A recently married couple comes back after their morning walk.
I write when I can't breath.