it was a monday morning that was meant to be forgotten, just as monday mornings usually are

with hours and tasks mushing together as a blanket memory that can’t be exactly pinpointed in time

all I was supposed to remember was the cold but festive air that fills the streets and the busy office

as christmas is just around the corner, with its carols and gifts wrapped under the tree

funny how one single detail can change everything and make this monday the most memorable of all

for a reason I wish never happened, but I can still read the black letters on white background: you are dead

words had never felt so chilling, so why does blood rush through my face? why is my heart thumping in my chest?

I try to convince my brain that it misread because it can’t possibly be the reality I have to live in

as if time was suspended, I walk around in circles in the parking lot

away from those prying eyes trying to understand why suddenly I don’t look like myself

I take in the cold winter air, hoping it will help me wake up from this nightmare

it cannot be anything else than one of those maze dreams from which I can never get out

after the initial shock, rationalization kicks in—the news might be wrong, you can still make it

paparazzis are just instilling their venom, and I can’t let it run through my veins

the morning fog settles behind my eyes and the shadow of my normal self turns on like autopilot<