FREE ESSAY ON MONDAY

MONDAY

I've owned a tiny futon store in a small mall in the downtown area of a rather bantam
city. This little hole in the wall had been my peaceful, get-away for nearly ten years. I
rarely received attention from tourists, let alone the other business owners. I didn't
bother anyone, and no one really bothered me. I kind of liked it like that.
Then, of course, it had to change.
Things always have a way of being good for a long time.... and then not being so good. I
suppose I may be overexaggerating over what happened on that silly Monday afternoon. But
then again, I may not be.
I was sitting at my slightly hidden desk, the same way I had done for the past ten years
or so without being bothered. I wasn't really working on anything because there wasn't
really anything to work on, but I sat there anyway and did my best to appear to be busy.

Then it happened. Like a drip of black ink on a sunset canvas, they entered the store. A
young man and woman of about twenty years of age, both of whom I had never seen before,
unknowingly changed my life forever.
Do you mind if we argue on your couch? the woman asked as she sat herself down on the
dark purple double flexifold futon. She was strangely beautiful and I found myself
quickly looking away from her, as to avoid the hint that she had intrigued me. 
No, I mumbled, Go ahead. I don't even think she acknowledged my response because she had
already assumed that it was alright. She tugged sharply on the young man's sweatshirt
sleeve and he sat.
How dare you?! she inquired, How dare you even ponder the thought in your mind, you
sonofabitch?! She wasn't yelling. She was loud and clear, like a trumpet solo in A Night
in Tunisia.
At first, I had sort of assumed that the young man that she was angry with had been her
brother.... twin perhaps. They stood at about the same height, both with straight blonde
hair and somber brown eyes.... hers were much more striking as his seemed to be squinted.

But as the conversation continued, I thought twice about the two being siblings.
She's such a bitch, James! she spat the words towards him, as if she were trying to cut
him with her tone.
No, she's not.... 
James' simple response filled the woman with even more rage. I caught the look in her
eyes and I felt the glow that was coming off of her. She was so insanely upset that the
whole world was about to explode inside of her. This look scared me.
She began a few stuttered sentences but soon realized that her emotions were not being
understood by James, the lame-ass bastard as she called him. How can feel something for
her? she asked softly. 
He had hurt her. Even I knew he had. I, who had never kept a relationship for longer than
4 months since middle school, knew he had hurt her. I, who felt trampled and completely
lost in the field of women and all that they.... do, knew she was sad.
I don't know, Sara.... The man began. I like her. She is---
---a bitch! Sara filled in. She is a bitch and when I see her, I'm going to beat her
down! How dare she pretend to be my friend! How dare she pretend to be my friend for
three years, James, three years! She was leaning towards him to help make her voice be
louder in his little ears.
Her rage was amazing. I found it harder and harder to pretend to be a non-interested
party. I hoped they didn't notice that I had set my pencil down and that I was forcing
myself to stare at my stapler. Oh, how I wanted to see her. How I wanted to watch her.
I don't really think she was pretending, James said, more to himself than to the
acrimonious girl beside him.
Well, she must have been, Sara assured him, But that is beyond the point that you, you
crude bastard you, are dating this bitch that you don't even really like.... after I told
you that it would injure me more than anything in the world....
I'm sorry, James said lamely, I don't really like her that much. It wasn't worth it to
hurt you like this. 
I wanted to shake James' hand. 
So are you going to dump her?
Well.... no....
I wanted to punch James in the teeth. But Sara was already fulfilling that desire. She
had grabbed one of the dark purple cylindrical pillows and began to slam him over the
head with it repeatedly. You *censored*ing bastard! she yelled.
It was at about this time that I realized that I wasn't the only member of the hidden
audience as I heard of few You get 'em, girl's and a couple Whoa, sista, take it easy!'s
coming from the main hallway. I was about to say something like Please don't or something
when Sara dropped the weapon and stood up, leaving James in a mushy pile of sweatshirt
and jeans on the futon.
She turned to me and flashed an unbelievably gorgeous smile. Sorry about this whole
thing, she said, turned and then walked away.
I wanted to jump out of my hole and scream how much I loved her.... or how much I could
love her.... if she'd let me. I wanted to hold her and let her cry about that lame-ass
bastard in my arms. I wanted to feel her eyes inside of mine. I wanted to kiss her cute
little, soon-to-be tear stained nose and make her smile at me again.
All these urges came bleeding out in a huge surge. But before I could kick my
self-consciousness, James had scrambled to his feet and was chasing after her. He called
out, Sara! Wait!
I closed the store early that day so I could go home and cry.