Once a month I post a micro story (a story that is 1,000 words or less). Words are my own. Read and enjoy but don’t copy and pass off as your own.
Done. For good.
I can’t really take a final look around because she’s here. That’s alright, though–I’ve looked at this office enough for 4 years. I won’t be back, so nothing more to see here. Nothing more to take in. A last-minute request came in minutes before, a mad dash for my signature before I finally disappear.
I now understand how my predecessor felt on her last day. Exhaustion on her face as her due date drew near, yes, but also relief that she found her out. I now have my out, too. Not a baby but a baby of a dream I finally reconnected with.
The breeze feels all the more comforting as I step out this evening. My weekend starts with no sense of urgency as the Monday rush and grind won’t come. I have 2 weeks…how should I start? I walk down the block to the bodega with the awesome almond croissants. Bag with the last two in hand, I take the train downtown.
Composed by Monique 