Morgan La Femina
Attribution Non-Commercial No Derivatives
Mel slumped over his seat. He was at a Diner over on the south end. He was quite tired
from a long day at the office, having plenty to do that day and having had plenty accomplished
during his time there. Of course his boss did not think much of his work but then his Principle
was making a good two million off his sales reps. He still had more to do tomorrow and the next
day. He was thinking of traveling in on Saturday against his wife’s wishes. Mel would rise up in
the early morning sunshine, leave his friend and companion alone, routinely ready himself and
make the hour long commute.
“How many Saturdays?” Who knows, he would ask himself. They had bills to pay and
that is what he was there for; they did just keep on coming.
Jenny would awaken without him in their bed and look around to see still another
yellow sticky note. The note would be hastily written and she would get little comfort from it or
nowadays nothing from it. Jenny had faded just as soon as the yellow notes came into their life.
She would look out the window of her small starter home and see the cars pass by, a bird or
two with their spring chicks feeding about the overgrown front lawn. Mel knew when he
arrived home she would be inebriated again, drunk. He had to mow the lawn after he tended to
her a bit. He knew that she had slowly replaced him with a thick glass bottle of fire that burned
down her throat. It burned him down through his heart. Hell, he had to pay for it and Mr. JD
was not cheap.
The server was cleaning some of the empty tables: the place emptier than not. There
was a man and a woman looking over their coffee at each other, in love. “What was love?” Mel
asked himself, long-suffering or through the pain or the upward descent toward accumulating
wealth? How far can you go to survive? How much money can you possibly make to pay off
your life? They had to live and he knew they simply just were not. He loo