Monday mornings hurt. Squinting sleepy eyes, alarm clocks, and breakfast on the fly. It’s a rude transition from the tranquility of the weekend. The same sun, the same sky, but strangely not as friendly.
There’s a BA flight that departs Monday mornings. Mondays and Wednesdays, and every week feels like a missed chance. I lay on the hard foam mattress, crushing my eyelids closed, and holding my breath trying not to think about my heart flying away.
These are things I look forward to