The Day Off

by Mara Wasilik

The day off was to be a slight gap of time in which everything was to fall into place, where, but for the twisted hand of fate, they should have landed long ago. In this time of superlatives and exaggerated adjectives, why has "fabulous fate" never come into vogue? The day off loomed in the drones midday mind like a L. Ron Hubbard book to a vulnerable psyche. Frantic, frightening, freakish, ferocious, fine and dandy, maybe.

On this day, only two days away, the perfect resume would be written and mailed to the fortunate company to land the job the drone had trouble even imagining. And the novel, ripe, could be hammered out. Yeah and the twenty minute workout would work.

So there you have it. The sleek young novelist, on one of her many days off that the new power job affords, still has time to take out the trash, while the laundry (on the delicate setting) spins. Fine and Dandy.

Fabulous. With downcast eyes and a slight smile, she totes the trash down to the garbage. She felt a bit immodest to be outside wearing so little, but laughed to think Mona Lisa must have been wearing a miniskirt. A gasp escaped from her lips to see a man leaning against the chain link fence which surrounded the pails. He too, was surprised at the intrusion, looking up apologetically, he picked up the worn copy of Sam Sheppard plays that had slipped from his weathered hands at her appearance. The visor that capped the brown curls was bright with the company's logo, "Trash Engineering", clashed with his stinking chino work clothes. His altar boy eyes examined her translucent bag, revealing the high bran cereal box, kiwi rinds, vegetable peels, a fine, yet empty bottle of wine, and European cigarette butts.

"Nice Trash" says he, and she returns the compliment.