Preserverance Or: The Bag of Bones

She began the same way she did every morning: putting herself together.

It didn’t take long.

Getting out of bed was the hardest part. Her daughter was up at six with her husband and her cat, so she could sleep another 45 minutes, which was always necessary. At 6:45, her daughter nudged her awake, which was usually with a question about afterschool activities, where an article of clothing was located, or homework, which was pointless because 5th grade math was completely beyond her anyway. And then she was awake and her body knew what to do and how fast it had to be done. There were 5 minutes for answering her daughter’s queries and locating anything she was missing, then 3 minutes for lunch preparation. This left her a full 12 minutes to wash her face, apply makeup, do her hair, and dress. She had already showered the night before. It was 20 minutes from being sound asleep to leaving the apartment, and she did it every morning. 

Then she and her daughter were out the door to school. Most days, after sending her into the building, she’d run into another elementary school parent on the way to the subway. They’d nod or wave, say “hi!” or “how are you?” in that friendly way where you never need to actually answer the question. She hadn’t had her coffee or breakfast yet, but she looked her best this time of day. Her skin looked its brightest, her figure its sveltest. And her body barely hurt at all.

She usually got a seat on the subway. That helped. If she didn’t, the ache would come sooner. By the time she reached her desk at work, breakfast in hand, the ache had come. It always came by then. There wasn’t much she could do about it. Exercise, stretching, Advil - they hadn’t helped. She had: an orthopedic pillow for her office chair, a special mouse pad that cradled her wrist, and a pair of blue-blocking glasses that helped her eye strain whilst staring into the abyss of her computer monitor. She was doing all she could.

The daily staff meeting was always at 10am. She had caught up on all her emails by then and finished her coffee but it was mostly during this meeting when everything began to unravel. It was usually Mitch LaShondrell’s fault, and not just because of his spectacularly bad name. She was explaining why her project was at a standstill when he decided to insert himself into the proceedings. Her eye began to twitch.  He didn’t know anything about the project or the work she had put into it. It didn’t matter - they listened to Mitch and not to her. 

And that’s when it happened.  Her eye fell out of its socket and landed on the conference room table with a splat.