Today's going to be a good day

“Good morning. It is sixth January twenty-twenty-five. O-six-hundred hours. Weather forecasted to be sunny. Now for the news…” Tak! I hit the snooze button and stretch. Ow! I massage my neck. I must have slept in the wrong angle. I pat my pillow and it is flatter than usual.

I open the blinds and like releasing a trapped ball the light bursts in, filling my apartment with a morning glow. Except it’s not enough to lighten the whole place up. I reach for the lights that turn on yellow. I swear I installed white ones. Doesn’t matter. I must not be fully awake yet.

The bathroom lights are yellow. I swear I had white ones in here, too. I don’t use yellow lights! Anyway, no time to stall. I finish up getting ready and start making my way in my silver Toyota hybrid. Now’s the time to listen to the news.

“… continuing with the morning news. It’s seven o’clock and I’m your host, Kerry. Not the best of days for the travellers onboard Coastline Express that derailed on Sunday evening…”

Shit.

“… some fifty passengers presumed dead or missing, and a further hundred-and-twenty-two have been airlifted or driven to the Bays Trauma Centre.”

Unbelievable. Not even a week into the new year.

“… break failure. More to come. That’s the news on Slice of Life FM. Next up we have …”

I pull into my parking lot at Greys Insurance and have to take a deep breath. It’s all random. Things like that happen all the time. Today's going to be a good day. Today's going to be a good day. Today's going to be a good day.

Today’s going to be a good day. Look it’s sunny. The sky is blue. I’m going to get coffee from Mo. It’ll be all right.

And there’s Mo at his coffee cart. A beacon that all is right in the world. I order my usual and notice he is sporting a moustache. He’s never worn a moustache before. It’s unusually quiet so I try to keep him company. “Nice growth there. Keeps the wife happy?”

“What?” He looks at me, confused.

I’m red faced. “Never mind.” I comment on something else. “Not too crowded hey, Mo.”

“No, no, no. You’re only my fifth one today.” Mo shakes his heads and purses his lips as he is fixing the plastic lid on to the cardboard cup. I imagine the steam collecting beneath the lid, like the beads of sweat I know are collecting on my back from the sun and the embarrassment.

He hands me my Latte without looking at me. “You have a good day, Mo.” I make a beeline for the glass doors. The glossy symbol of corporate reliability. I step through them with the tap of my access tag.

The lobby is as I last remembered it. The black marble floors are polished as they should be. The air conditioning is blasting cooled, recycled air into the artificial space. I breathe it all in and let it dry out my nostrils. At least some things don’t change.

I can feel the buzz, the coiled energy. People are filtering in and out of the turnstiles. Elevators are unleashing pods of well-groomed men and women who are all power walking down their own individual runways. It’s good to be back.

My desk is on the seventeenth floor where I can see out to the park with a playground if I stand up. It’s gathered a thin layer of dust over the new year’s break. I suppose the cleaners missed this part of the building. My monitors are carelessly pushed to sharp angles on their swivels. I didn’t leave them like that.

I adjust the monitors and hear a chirp. “Welcome back, Josh. How was your break?” It’s Jerry from marketing and I force a smile.

“Refreshing.” Spare the details, Josh. “Ready to start.” I know some of these rats hadn’t left for the holidays, and Jerry’s one of them.

“Mm-hmm. Mine was… productive.” He gets distracted. “Hey is that from across the road? I heard they have this new specialty bean from a jungle in godforsaken whoknowswhere.”

“It’s from the coffee cart out the front.”

“Huh.” He sniffs. “Well a few of us are heading to the new place at break time if you’d like to join us.”

I look down at my Latte. It’s Mo’s but Mo’s was never good. It just got you by. “Second cup on a Monday couldn’t hurt.”

I feel bad for Mo. I feel like I’m breaking some unspoken pact I willingly made every day with my purchase. But Mo doesn’t seem to even recognise me. And Jerry is being friendly. Maybe it is the stat to a new year after all.

***

“Good morning. It is seventh January twenty-twenty-five. Five past o-six-hundred hours.” Tak! What? I swear I set it for o-six-hundred hours. I have a headache that’s throbbing and I take a paracetamol with breakfast. My neck pain hasn’t gone away.

The lights are still yellow and I’m starting to doubt I ever had white lights in. The authorities are just recovering the black box of the train that crashed and killed fifty people, as well as going over maintenance records. As I pull into my parking lot, I tell myself today’s going to be a good day. Mo is pulling shots at his cart and there is a man in line. I see he has a customer and feel less guilty when I head straight to the glass doors.

I look up and the sign above the glass doors reads Blaze Insurance. I stop in my tracks. Greys... Blaze... Easily mixed up. I brush it off. I must not be paying attention. For goodness sakes, it's my employer!

The air-conditioned air is oddly refreshing. My desk is not yet cleaned but at least my monitors are untouched. The pantry has a surface cleaner and some paper towels which I grab plentiful sheets of. That’s when I bump into Amy. She is sporting a low-cut top and red hair. I swear she was a brunette and she’s never worn anything like that before.

“Hey Amy, haven’t seen you in a while.”

“Joshie, I heard you had a refreshing holiday. Where did you go?” Amy is bubbly and expressive. She isn’t like the others in claims.

“Oh nothing I went away to be by the sea. Good weather all round. Can’t complain.” Except I have no recollection of my holiday. I just know I had a holiday.

“I love the beach. Maybe invite me the next time you go?” Amy taps my hand and stands very close to me. I breathe in the perfume that’s wafting from her chest. “Look at the time, I’ve got a meeting to get to. Jerry’s banding everyone on seventeenth to that new place across the road. He said you approve. I think I’ll go along this time. Catch up with you later?”

“Uh yeah. Sounds good.” And I watch her walk away. I remembered to blink and tried to catch whatever perfume was left in the space that she’d graced. What was her last name again… Laskin. Amy Laskin.

I wipe my desk and it is finally clean. I take a seat but then almost fell out of it, because I don’t remember going to the café with Jerry and the others yesterday. I think a bit harder and realise I don’t remember anything from yesterday, not after adjusting the monitors. I think again, steadying my breath. Nothing. I have no memory of this.

My headache worsens and I need to stand up. I see the park. That’s right, some greenery will help. All I need is some fresh air. It’s summer after all. It’s sunny. It’s supposed to be a good day.

***

“Good morning. It is…” Tak! I sit upright in my bed. I had the weirdest dream. I remember heading to the park that I can see from my desk on the seventeenth floor. I get to the park with a playground but it is empty. No swings, no seesaw, no sand pit, no families. It is a plot of grass with trees on the border.

I switch the lights on and they are white. I swear these were yellow yesterday. I need a glass of ice-cold water to wake myself up. In the kitchen I see the clock showing 6:30. I’m sure I hadn’t sat in my bed for thirty minutes.

No time for dilly dallying. I walk to my silver Toyota hybrid … Wait a minute. Wasn’t my car silver? I shake my head. I must be remembering things wrong. I unlock the red Toyota hybrid and grip the steering wheel. Breathe, Josh, breathe. Turn the radio on. It’s going to be all right.

I drive and the news comes on. Something about the main insurer not approving claims. What a way to start the new year. Whatever the families are going through right now is way worse than what I’m experiencing. I try to remember that.

I tell myself today’s going to be a good day. Today's going to be a good day. Today's going to be a good day.

Mo is pulling shots at his coffee cart and waves at me. Biggest smile and the longest queue I’ve seen this week. I wave back but feel a stone in my stomach. I’ve been a traitor, Mo, I’m sorry. I walk past him because I know he doesn’t need my order today.

On the seventeenth floor and finally at my desk. It is clean and my monitors are in the correct angles. All is right.

The day could only get better. Amy Laskin taps my shoulder from behind and sits on my desk. She crosses her legs in front of me. “So, Josh, what do you think about the breakfast place by the park?”

I try to look like I know what she’s talking about. “Oh yeah, not bad.”

“I missed you yesterday. I hope you come along with the rest of us this time, you know, to the place across the road.” I delighted in her coy smile.

“Of course. I’ll make sure to join you today.” I smile back. She is wearing the same perfume and I don’t want her to leave my desk. “How are the claims for the year looking?”

Amy sighs and looks away. “It’s a tough start to the year. The train wreck doesn’t help. That’s a lot of loss of life and the numbers don’t look good.”

“I’m sorry to hear.” I want to ask more but Amy is visibly down. I change topic. “It’s Laskin isn’t it, your name?”

“Nice try, but my name is Lattimer.” With that, and all the grace of a fox, she slides off my desk and straightens her skirt. She walks away but turns to tell me, “Maybe I can teach you the other parts of my name some time.”

I would be so flattered but I am too bothered by what she said. Her name is Lattimer and not Laskin. I swear…

“Josh! You smooth silver fox. Trying to get your game on with the redhead there huh.” It’s Jerry again from marketing. What does he know. He swings for the other team.

“What can I say, the ladies can’t resist my charm. Excuse me.” I get up and calmly stride to the bathroom. I am not a silver fox. What is Jerry talking...

I have silver hair on my head. That’s not right. I’m naturally dark-haired. I look at my face. No wrinkles, no crows feet, no pigmentation. I am young and I am thirty-four. I had dark-brown hair yesterday and today I have silver hair. Something is off. I want to scream.  

***

“Good morning. It is ninth January …”

I sit up and let the clock go. Something is off. I can feel it. Where are my memories? I don’t recall changing the lights, and I don’t recall going to the breakfast place by the park. I don’t even think I made it to the park.

Beads of sweat start rolling down my forehead. My shirt is drenched and the tips of my hair gather in wet points. The world is spinning and I can’t make it stop. I close my eyes but that makes it worse and I feel sick.

I don’t make it to the toilet bowl and I spew all over the bathroom floor. At least it’s tiled and the clean-up will be easier. But the smell of my own guts makes me even sicker and I crouch at the bowl and retch. I start heaving acid.

No, I can’t afford to spiral. I have to get to the office.

It’s going to be all right. I am Josh. My name is Josh. But what’s my last name?

I drive a silver Toyota hybrid, and that has turned red.

I work at Greys, no, Blaze, Insurance, and it is refusing to pay claims for the train wreck.   

Amy Laskin, no Lattimer, works in said claims. 

I brace myself against the toilet bowl and press myself up. What a mess. I plant my feet in spots not covered in my vomit to make it to the sink. Yes, I’ll splash my face with cold water.

I look at myself squarely in the mirror. I still have silver hair and my eyes are blood-shot red from all the crying and spewing. What the hell is going on.

In the top right corner of my mirror I see green lettering, like those on digital clocks.

R-E-S-T-A-R-T.

***

Entertainment News: Popular simulation game goes offline.

Published 10^th January 2025.

The popular life simulation game Slice of Life went offline this morning. The company behind the $200 million a year online game admitted that a recent update to the character’s level of self-awareness proved too disruptive to gameplay.

One user commented, “My character started flipping out over changes I made. Like the lights, his hair colour. It’s multiplayer and other characters started changing stuff their own stuff – he just started going nuts. I guess I’d start questioning reality too if that were me.”

***

“Good morning, it is thirteenth January twenty-twenty-five. O-six-hundred hours. Expect showers today. Now time for the news…”

I am awake *yawn*. That was good sleep.

I’ll make breakfast and turn the lights on. Yellow lights are a good idea. Makes the place feel warm.

I’ll walk to the bathroom now. Oh no, it smells like vomit in here. We should clean up.

Hey, I think I have a hangover. What should I do?