Wednesday

It was a typical Wednesday. The middle of the week, steal your soul moment when you realize that all of the agony of this week is only half over. I listened to the dull hum of my computer in my cubicle and listened to Roy attempt to negotiate for the return of his half eaten report from the copier. Behind me were large wonderful windows that showed us the outside. Not that I could see them behind the back wall of my cubicle, but I found some small solace in that welcoming ray of soft orange every afternoon to signal the end of another day for the cogs of the world.

I stared at budget reports and tried to wrap my head around them, but the effort proved futile. Perhaps my blood sugar was low? I looked at my watch and noticed 27 minutes had passed since I had clocked in this morning. I put my hand on my forehead and debated whether the clock was moving backwards as some sick joke. Staying here would not help clear the frustration from my mind so I stood to head toward the vending machines. When was the last time I ate? I had dinner with Pete last night, but after that…I couldn’t recall of moment of eating anything. But it was Wednesday, and the vending machines tended to be picked clean of any good snacks by midday Tuesday. I’m sure all that was left were apples, bran muffins, and stale chips that nobody ever ate. The ones that made your breath smell terrible. But didn’t Jeremy on the third floor like those? I shook my head and decided it did not matter what the creep on the third floor liked. He always got too close to people and tried to whisper in their ear while wafting stinking chip breath all over their faces.

The stairs wrapped upward around a corner and I finally made it to the vending machines. I eyed the other person in the room. It was Kelly, from payroll. She must have also just arrived, because her eyes were wide and staring at one of the most amazing things I had ever come across in my time working in this building. There was a Kit-Kat bar stuck in the coil of the last vending machine. We both snapped to attention upon the other’s realization. There was only one. I went straight for my pocket and then hesitated when Kelly put his hand on the machine. She slowly reached for her wallet as she shifted between keeping an eye on me and looking at the last piece of salvation for this Wednesday morning. Our movements were slow at first, but her hand jerked a bit too quickly. I responded and drew out my wallet as fast as my fingers would move, but not before she drew hers. I cracked the wallet open. She opened hers. We both drew dollar bills, all the while never breaking eye contact. We both lunged at the bill slot simultaneously. I do not remember the specific details, but I ended with bruise on my face when she slapped me away from the bill slot. Her hopes were dashed when she realized it was 1.50 and not 1.00. She did not have any more money in her wallet. I rubbed my bruised face but held up my dollar.

“Want to split it?”