Another Monday Morning
The childrens giggling wakes me from my slumber. I hear them bounding down the hallway and come tumbling into our room. I can barely see the twin boys little blonde heads over the foot of my bed.
“Daddy! Daddy” they cry as I roll over and groan. My wife just laughs. “Let daddy wake up first!”, she swoons.
The children run down the stairs, I can hear them skipping stairs and racing all the way to the bottom. I don’t feel like getting out of bed. I never do anymore.
“It’s your brothers birthday today! Don’t forget to call him” my wife reminds me. She slides out of bed, slipping on her red robe over her translucent silk night gown.
“I’ll have breakfast waiting, you’re favorite; pancakes and eggs!” she says as she kisses me on the nose. I reach for the phone as my wife puts her slippers on.
I dial a number i’ve known all my life. It doesn’t require any thought, not that I would have been able to produce any this early anyway. I here the dial tone and a calming voice.
“I’ll see you in fifteen minutes” I say as I hang up. I crawl out of bed and begin to make my way downstairs, the aroma of fresh cooked omelettes and pancakes pulling me towards the kitchen.
I look out the window on the way to the kitchen like I always do. It’s a cold winter day. Ominous gray clouds hang low with a thin silver frost covering the grass.
The kids schoolbus pulls up to the corner, “Don’t miss the bus!” my wife says as she grabs the boys Toy Story backpacks. One has a Woody backpack, the other Buzz LightYear.
They sling their backpacks on and rush out the door, pieces of pancakes and eggs stuck to their face. The door opens as the kids bolt for the bus, eager to begin another day.
My wife tries to keep up, but slips on the frost, yet regains her balance. She just looks back at me and smiles. In the distance I can hear the sirens of a police car getting close.
I close the door. The handle is cool to the touch. I lean my back against the door, tears welling in my eyes. The sirens are on our street. The metal is cold against my lower back.
I pray the paramedics get here before my wife returns. I lock the deadbolt. “Another fucking monday”, I think to myself as I squeeze the trigger.