Sunday, 2 February 2014

The leaving of the weekend.

There's no getting around it, Monday is upon us. It has arrived. Once more it seems we must wave a tearful farewell to the weekend, as it slowly departs by train from the busy platform of life. We do briefly run alongside it's carriage as it's slowly makes it's way along the platform, waving it off as we do so and telling it that we love it and that we will see it again soon. Sadly and all too soon, the train audibly moves up a gear and we struggle to keep up with it, all the while just longing to look upon the weekend's face for just a few seconds more. Then, as we knew we would, we run out of platform and have to stop and just watch as the train trundles off into the distance, with the weekend still frantically waving and blowing kisses from it's window. Then the line bends round to the right and through a tunnel and it's gone.

Alone and bereft we find ourselves slowly shuffling back down the long empty platform to the loud crowds of the terminus ahead. Lost in a world own, and thinking of all the good times we spent with the weekend. We smile to ourselves as a fat tear rolls down our cheek. It seems to take hours as we reach the bustling hubbub of the station concourse, surrounded by people, yet feeling all alone, as we lament for the weekend who is no longer by our side.

As another trains pulls in with a hiss of brakes, we snap out of our trance and wipe away the tears telling ourselves we're just being silly, it's only a week after all. Before we know it, five days will pass, and the weekend will be by our sides once more. Then just as we gather ourselves and start to take purposeful steps towards the exit, we hear running feet behind us getting nearer and nearer and then skidding to a halt. We turn and see a long, pallid face attempting to smile but only managing a sneer. "Hello again!" it says in a very nasally voice, "Remember me!? I'm Monday. I've come to keep you company AAAALL day!" It then breaks into a laugh which is mostly made up of a series of snorts, which gives the overall impression of a pig being tickled.

So we look Monday up and down, take a deep breath and just sigh as we slowly make our way out of the station, doing our best to ignore our pestering companion.

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