Monotony

BEEP. BEEEEP.

My alarm. It's time to get up. I groan and squish my head between my lumpy pillows. It's far too early to be awake, and even the simple thought of getting up and dealing with traffic and the noises of the city in the morning makes me want to scream.

Something wet and cold drips onto my nose. I open my eyes and look in disgust at the stained and leaking ceiling of my small apartment. A second water droplet forms in the sagging part of my ceiling and I jump out of bed just as it falls. It drops down onto my pillow and I cringe.

I definitely need to wash that now. The stain is rust-brown and I'm really not sure that I want to know what it is. I let out a deep sigh and grab a little flowerpot that I was going to put my daisies in and set it carefully under the leak. I'll have to deal with that later. I have to be in Ms. Bradford's office with her large iced caramel macchiato by seven-thirty or she will, once again, explain to me why I am the worst assistant she's ever had. In detail.

I don't know how many more of those talks my pride can take, so I drag my sorry ass into the shower. As I wash my hair and use some of the fancy body wash that makes me smell good, I feel rather useless. I work for one of the top media companies in the world, and all I can do is pick up coffee and lunch, follow Ms. Bradford around the office, and flirt uselessly with her secretary, fully knowing he'll never take any actual interest in me.

I hop out of the shower and throw on my bathrobe, going through my normal routine. I throw my hair up into a ponytail. Maybe a business updo would be better, but I don't have the time, patience, or sleep for that. I grab for my favorite perfume, the one that smells like vanilla, but I remember that Ms. Bradford's favorite smell is roses. I put down the vanilla and pick up the pink rose perfume.

I hastily apply a layer of makeup that may or may not have actually improved my looks. Feeling as confident as I'm going to be, I walk out into my living room and smile when Preston comes bounding up to me with his tail wagging. I lean down and kiss his furry little head.

"I have to go to work, baby. Your food and water bowls are full and Juliet will be by to take you out in a little." He whimpers at me like he does every day when I have to leave for work.

I have to get going soon, or I'll be in deep shit. I grab my purse off the counter, My computer bag off of the sofa, where I spent all of last night working on the meeting schedule I told Ms. Bradford that I'd already done.

By the time that I get her coffee and drive to Bradford Towers, it's nearly eight. I'm late. On top of that, there's absolutely no parking in the garage, and some asshole took my registered spot.

When I walk into the foyer, the elevator is out of order, which means that I'm going to have to walk. This day is turning out to be a catastrophe, and it's not even nine yet.

I end up sprinting up the stairs, as far as I can before tiring out. Those weekends at the gym have done wonders, and I make it to the top floor in ten minutes. Not bad. As I arrive at the door to Ms. Bradford's floor, a couple of handymen are carrying a ladder down from the roof, and I have to duck down under it or risk decapitation. They murmur a gruff hello which I return.

I'd congratulate myself on my briskness, but I walk into the main waiting area to find myself greeted by Ms. Celine Bradford herself, storming up to me in a flurry of blonde hair streaked with brown and those blue eyes that absolutely stun you into paralysis.

"You're late." She snaps at me ruthlessly and rips the coffee out of my hands.

"I'm sorry, ma'am. There was a line at your regular place and the traffic near my house was absolutely-"

"No more excuses, Autumn Sailer." I nearly roll my eyes. She knows that's not my name, at this point she's really only doing it to spite me for being late.

"It's August, ma'am. August Bailey."

She waves her hand at me dismissively and starts to walk away. I know I'm supposed to follow her, but I really don't want to. She's acting rather strangely today and I don't know if I trust it.

Her secretary, Luka, sends me a pitying glance. I blow him a kiss and he rolls his eyes, just like he does every other day.

I follow her into her office and she sits heavily in her desk chair, one of the big ones that spin. She looks out her floor to ceiling windows down at the city and sips her coffee.

"Aaliyah."

"Not even close."

"I don't care." I know she doesn't.

"Angelina, do you know what our motto is here at Bradford Media?"

I know it, and she knows that I know it. Every employee here knows it.

"Respect the past, Engineer the future."

"Exactly." My boss turns to me. Her eyes flash at me, and I have a sudden feeling of being prey. Ms. Bradford generally has that effect.

"Amy, I built this company to ensure the futures of our children. I built this company to inform and explain. I built this company to show the truth of the world to all the people willing to hear it."

"Yes, miss."

"What do you think your place is in all of this, Ms. Trailey? In this vast machine that is Bradford media. What is your place?"

"I'm your assistant, ma'am." She smiles. It's the kind of smile that you start to wonder if it was really a smile at all.

"You're very right. And what is your job, as my assistant?"

I started to understand a little bit about where this is going and I am not excited about it.

"Bring you your coffee, do your paperwork and your schedules and bring you your lunch on occasion."

"Exactly. What is that, four tasks?"

She throws her coffee straight onto the floor.

"And what is your point, Ms. Bailey, if you bring me my goddamn coffee cold?"

Well. This is maybe the worst day ever.

The rest of my day didn't go any better. She sent me back for another cup of coffee, which meant making the hike up the stairs for a second time. The day was full of meaningless and spiteful tasks, needed for no use other than to make me miserable. If that was the only goal, I'd have called it a success, based simply on my mood as the day drew to a close. I really have to wake up earlier tomorrow.

I get home and throw myself down on my couch, absolutely exhausted. The pay is excellent and the employee benefits are fantastic, but some days. Some days I really hate my job. Preston hops onto my lap and I run my hands through his little puppy fur. I scratched under his front legs. He loves that.

I filled up his food and water, gave him a treat, and fed myself out of the leftovers in the fridge. I don't remember exactly when I had put it in there, but it didn't smell bad so I ate it.

I fell asleep watching Ellen. At midnight I woke up and realized I'd forgotten to email Ms. Bradford the finance spreadsheet I'd been given, so I pulled out my laptop and finished it up to send to her. At some point, I stumbled back into my bedroom and flopped down under my covers.

---

BEEP. BEEEEP.

Ugh. Damn alarm. I slam my hand groggily down on it and just as I make to roll over, I feel a cold droplet splash on my cheek. I growl in frustration and roll out of bed. I grab a flowerpot I had nearby for my daisies and look up at the gray-brown leak in my roof. I really need to talk to my landlord about that.

I have to get going. If I'm late, Ms. Bradford will have my head on a stick. And I need to stop for her coffee, a large caramel macchiato. Iced.

As I shower, I think rather desolate thoughts about my life and my place in the world. I really could be doing a lot more than waiting on a media mogul and crying into Preston's fur. I should have a boyfriend. Or a husband. Or something. I don't even really care at this point.

When I get out of the shower I twist my hair up into a ponytail and put on some of my pink rose perfume. I really do like the vanilla one more, but roses are Ms. Bradford's favorite, and if that little thing will put her in a good mood, it's more than worth it for me. I throw on a pencil skirt, a nice blouse, and a pair of heels and then I'm ready to go.

I pet Preston and say my goodbyes, reminding him that Juliet will be by later to take him out, and then I grab my purse off the kitchen counter and my computer bag off of the couch. It's still sitting there from where I had to rush that last-minute email to Ms. Bradford last night.

With that, I'm on my way. There's a line at her favorite coffee place, so I'm already a little bit behind schedule, but I've gotten the coffee extra hot so it won't get cold on the elevator ride up.

There's no parking so it takes me an extra minute to find a spot. Someone stole my assigned parking place and it's really pissing me off. A Ford F150 truck. Red.

I'll make a complaint.

The elevator is out of order when I do find a spot, which means I have to take the stairs. Crap. I can feel her coffee losing some of its warmth and I can tell this is going to be a rough day.

When my trek up the twenty floors is done, I'm worn out but I've made it. A couple of handymen are carrying a ladder down from the roof and I have to duck to avoid being hit by the large object. They grunt something that sounded like hello and I respond in kind.

By the time I walk through the door, I'm late. It's eight. Ms. Bradford is waiting for me by Luka's desk, and he shoots me an almost pitying look.

Ah. So it's going to be one of these days.

She sashays up to me in a whirlwind of blond hair and blue eyes.

"I ask for my coffee by seven-thirty, Anita. It's eight."

I hand her the coffee, probably lukewarm at this point. "Yes, ma'am. And it's August. Not Anita."

"Whatever." She beckons for me to follow her and she struts back into her office with the air of someone who has something to complain about.

When I wink at Luka, he rolls his eyes, per usual.

I follow Ms. Bradford into her office. She stands by her windows and looks down on the city while she takes a long drink of her coffee.

She addresses me without turning to face me, per usual.

"April, do you know what our motto is, here at Bradford Media?"

"Respect the past, Engineer the future, ma'am."

"Exactly. And your job here is to bring me my coffee, arrange my calendars and paperwork, and bring me my lunches. Is that correct? That's what you are paid to do, no?"

"Yes, Ms. Bradford."

She takes another small sip of her coffee before throwing it onto the ground.

"And what is your point, Ms. Bailey, if you bring me my goddamn coffee cold?"

I flinch, not at the words she spoke because such harshness is commonplace when dealing with Celine Bradford. No. I am hit by a very powerful feeling of deja vu. It almost overcomes me. For some reason, I feel like I've had this exact conversation before.

"WELL?" Ms. Bradford doesn't like being ignored.

"I'm sorry, ma'am. I will do better tomorrow.

The tall woman huffs down at me. "See that you do, Adrian."

She spends the rest of the day punishing me with menial labor and trivial jobs that we both know have no use save for my misery. But I'm too creeped out to notice. I've had the conversation before. I know it.

I get home tired, flop on my couch, feed myself and Preston, and then finish the actual important work that I forgot to do during the day. At the end of it all, I jump into my bed and fall gently off to sleep.

---

BEEP. BEEEEP.

Alarm. Leaky roof. Shower. Dress. Preston. Coffee. Stairs. Handymen. Ladder. Luka.

"And what is your point, Ms. Bailey, if you bring me my goddamn coffee cold?"

I'm shocked out of my stupor. Okay. I've heard this before. I've done this before. I've done all of this before.

"I'm sorry, ma'am but have we had this conversation before? Like... recently?"

Ms. Bradford takes my question the exact wrong way, thinking that I'm being a smartass and sends me out of her office immediately. She sends me out for another coffee and tells me to come back with a better attitude and a hot cup.

I sit in my car for a minute. I saw a red Ford F150 in my parking spot today. Those handymen came down into my way. The elevator was out of order. I'm struck again by that horrible sense of deja vu. This has all definitely happened before.

I mean, I understand the whole thing about the monotony of being an office drone, but this is ridiculous. It's the same exact day as yesterday.

I lean my head down on my steering wheel. That's crazy. No one lives the exact same day.

I go and get her coffee.

----

On the fourth day, I never brought the coffee, just to see how it would go. A person in the foyer handed me a large caramel macchiato and told me it was for Ms. Bradford.

The day happened exactly like before.

----

On the fifth day, I run directly into the handymen on purpose. They pick me up. One of them caught the coffee I had in my hand. Not a drop spilled.

The day happens again.

---

On the sixth day, she yells at me and I yell back. I get fired momentarily, just to be rehired later that afternoon with the promise that I will bring a hot coffee tomorrow morning.

The day continues.

---

On the seventh day, I kiss Luka on the mouth. He asks me on a date. We never go on one because

The day starts again.

----

On the eighth day, I punch Celine Horatia Bradford square in the mouth when she yells at me.

The day starts again.

----

On the ninth day, I bring a knife from my kitchen to work with me. I stab Celine Horatia Bradford with it. Forty-seven consecutive times.

The day starts again.

----

On the tenth day, I kill our entire floor of people before seven o'clock.

The day starts again.

---

On the eleventh day, I kill three floors of people.

The day starts again.

---

On the twelfth day, I kill half of Bradford Towers.

The day starts again.

---

On the thirteenth day, I have killed the entire staff of Bradford Towers.

The day starts again.

----

On the fourteenth day, I stand on the roof of Bradford towers. It's cold. The wind blows my clothes against my body, and I look down at all the people moving around their daily lives. I wonder if any of them are aware that their lives haven't changed in two weeks.

I called my mom and sisters on day seven. They thought I was crazy. Maybe I am. I don't feel crazy, but I suppose that people who have lost their minds usually aren't aware of it.

What do I know?

I look over the city. It really is very pretty. Somedays I wish that I could go around the world. I suppose I could have if this dumb loop hadn't happened. Though I doubt I ever would've gone through with it. I'm not bold enough to leave everything behind like that an make my own way in the world.

Well, I wasn't.

That's beside the point. Irrelevant.

I can't live like this. Killing people was more fun than I'd previously expected, but I can't do it forever. And I don't think that this world needs any more crazy people than it's already got.

With that, I jump. It's a long way down. I wonder if Celine Bradford will see me falling and wonder if this was her fault. I wonder if Carol in the tech department will see me falling and know. And understand. She knows misery.

I hit the ground. It hurts for just one moment. And then I'm gone.

----

BEEP. BEEEEP.

Pedestrians hear my screams from the sidewalk. I live on the top floor.

The day starts again.

THE END