Wednesday, 27 April 2011

Tuesday, 10.35am, The Staff Room

By Thomas Jaunism

Everyone feigned contentment. She stood in the middle of the room and drowned in voices of people she didn't know. She didn't care about them. She'd had enough of this shit. She thought 'those little fuckers' and she felt bad for swearing in her head. A voice told her it was OK to be 'fucked off'. She should give that cheeky one a smack around the ears.

She remembered how much she loved Antoine. She imagined resting her head on his lap in sun. Another voice told her to 'snap out out of it'.

She thought of what she would cook for dinner and how she couldn't be bothered cooking tonight, or tomorrow night...and how she couldn't remember the last time she was happy, or if she'd ever been happy.

She tried to recall how she ended up in this room and why she was always pleasant to everyone. She forgot why she smiled at strangers and made small talk with her colleagues.

Her hands were red, cold and frail. She detested her hands. She felt the mole on the left side of her face and hated her parents. She wished she could go home and watch TV dramas with her mother.

She searched for something to look forward to. She saw days turn into years and all of them lonely. She was completely inside herself now. The sadness turned to sobbing and she did nothing to stop the tears.

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