I wake up. Drink coffee. Comb my hair. Make polite conversation with the mirror. Practice smiling. Think about a word for the day. One word can start me on a new train. Nothing pops up. The books are empty upstairs.
First one in the office. Janitors just leaving. The air-conditioning is so loud when no one is here. It's like being in the sinuses of a whale practicing yoga. Exhale. I still don't have a word for the day. Exasperate? Nope.
Boss arrives. High fives the team and then calls me to her desk. She asks if I slept in the office again. No I say. Just got here early. Very early. She wants to know what I do all morning. I don't tell her about my word of the day. The mirror conversation. The deafening air conditioner. This and that is what I tell her. Still no word. Interrogation? No. That won't help me.
Lunch shows up, but I can't eat. My coworkers run out for sandwiches. I stay in. Too many choices on the menus. I stick to the vending machine. 803. Cheetos. I have Cheetos at 2 PM. Not doing that is as bad as not having a word.
Blowtorch. Is that two words? It will have to do. The train starts. I hop on. Faster and faster it barrels down the tracks. Blowtorch. All aboard. I feel the wind in my hair as I stick my head out the window. I can't hear the air conditioner over the whipping mountain wind around me. Blowtorch sets me free. The day ignites with color.
FIGHT EVIL
Sam Drog
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