Prologue: Tomorrow

Montonony has become my standard.

I wake up at 7:00 pm or 7:20 if I’m feeling a bit bold and climb out of my bed about five times a week. I walk to my bathroom, which in my very tiny studio apartment, about the size of an attic, is about three to four steps, and do my usual routine. I look at myself in the mirror, comb my hair, which I try to keep short for convenience's sake; it’s already reached the bottom of my neck, which means a visit to the barber soon.

I’ve considered dying my dark hair blonde, or maybe red, something more vibrant, but then I look at the bags under my dark green eyes, my apricot skin dull from lack of proper nutrients and proper sleep, and then realize trying to make a part of me ‘stand out’ is a waste when the rest of me screams defeated.

Once I brush my teeth, which are oddly well kept, only to avoid having to pay a visit to the dentist, I give myself a pep talk before I walk outside.

“Your bills are due soon.”

With a thimble full of hope, I get dressed in black slacks and throw a button-up shirt over my t-shirt, then slip on a pair of black sneakers. I’m not supposed to wear them but no one on the board is coming to the store to tell me to wear dress shoes and I can guarantee the manager doesn’t care.

Leaving the room with my bag, I rub the stubble on my chin, I’ll shave tomorrow since I’m already cutting it close.

I make my way down a street after leaving my apartment, walking under an orange sky with buildings on both sides, with only one separate street further up the road, always makes me feel a little trapped; very few people are out at this time, save a few people in their windows. I wave to them when they wave to me and pretend I know who they are, since they seem to know who I am.

I believe this is only because I run into them at my workplace. The mother with her two children, the old man who wears a cowboy hat for some reason, I see the most there. I’m pretty sure they only know my name because I wear a nametag. While I dislike the thing, it would make my life easier if everyone wore one; trying to remember the names of people I’m required to interact with is too much effort.

After leaving the street, I’m basically at the station, I walk in, pay at the gate and hop onto my train. I notice as I’m paying that the Conductor isn’t in the office or standing nearby. I only remember him because he stands out, full blue station outfit with polished buttons and a straightened tie with a blue cap that’s always pulled down slightly; you can’t see his eyes unless you get close to him. More than likely, the reason I remember him is that his nametag reads ‘Conductor’ on it, no one who doesn’t work in the station knows his name. When asked, he tells people to just call him ‘Conductor’ as that’s his role here, and then he smiles.

I’ll give the guy credit, he’s really married to his job, and he’s always friendly. I’ll admit my day is a bit brighter when he gives me his usual hat tip, no long conversation just silent acknowledgment, like he knows I don’t want a forced greeting, he’s good at reading people, I think.

Also I was surprised his eyes are green like mine but somehow brighter.

I ride the train for twenty minutes, I’m always alone on it save for one or two people, living in a rural area the trains shut down earlier than in the city. After twenty minutes, I get off the train and walk down a residential street, though calling it residential is being polite, in the ten years I’ve worked here I’ve passed a handful of residents walking around. I generally only ever see them when I’m at work.

Finally, after ten minutes of walking, I made it to the store. I was told years ago that this store was special. From where I stood, it was the same single-story, rectangular-shaped buildings that most corner stores were. The special part was that it wasn’t attached to anything, so it wasn’t really a ‘corner store’, a very funny joke that I made sure to forcefully smile at for my boss at the time.

It’s just a store on a road; the only special thing about it is that it’s the only one in the area. If you want to stop somewhere else, you have to hop on the train; whoever chose this place was either a genius or got lucky. Because we're the only store, we get a fair number of people in the store.

One such person is Sven. My eyes move to an alley as I pass it, looking for the guy. He’s the local homeless man; no one knows where he came from, and no one in the area knows him, so it’s assumed he came from somewhere else, probably hopped on the train drunk, and settled here. He’s normally in a dusty brown coat, an extremely worn red sweater with dark stains, dirty brown pants with worn brown boots, and a black beanie that’s pulled down over his eyes.

I have no idea how he sees, but that’s his outfit year-round, even in summer. Sven is also probably not his name; it’s just what he yells during his mad ramblings. It’s probably a guy he knew, maybe during Void Day, who really knows. He’s mostly harmless and strange enough he pays when he does buy something, so he is a ‘customer’ and I treat him as such when he enters the store.

Once I’m at the store, I unlock the door for the night shift, which, considering I’m unlocking the door, means it’s just me. I walk inside, and my eyes move to the shelves immediately, the few rows that line the middle of the shop, then my gaze moves to the freezers near the back of the store, then my eyes move to the counter on the other end of the store.

“So, morning shift barely restocked, great.”
I mumble this to myself as I close the front door and walk into the back room, whose lock is still broken.

Once there, I fully change into my work uniform, a white work shirt, and my nametag that reads ‘Eli’ and adjust it, the nametag the board members would actually care about, which says something considering they spelled my full name wrong. I prefer being called Eli anyway, so I let it go.

I still feel stressed about someone walking into the backroom. Customers who need something will throw open the door, which has happened three times; it always puts me on edge when I walk back here. You’d think the ‘Employees Only’ sign would be a deterrent, but it’s like a magnet.

I told corporate about it and they said they would send someone, that was three years ago.

I make a mental note to check the bathroom next door, just to make sure the stalls are unlocked.

I walk back into the store, and luckily, no customers have walked in. I quietly thank whoever is listening for this moment of quiet and, after restocking the shelves, move behind the counter and take my place at one of the registers.

My gaze moves to the spot next to me, the other register, before I lean against the counter and let out a long sigh.

“...should be here tomorrow. Just me tonight.”

I flip on the tv so there’s background noise, I don’t pay attention to what the weather woman is saying anymore. She points at the sky for some reason; it’s probably going to rain as usual, which doesn’t really matter to a person stuck in one place for the next eight hours.

I stopped watching the news some time ago, only depressing things on there, all this talk of incidents going on with no explanation, people panicking over possibilities. There’s always something going on in the world, or something wrong in the neighborhood, pretty sure they said the air was going to be poisoned six months ago yet here we are still breathing just fine.

I just check my phone for weather reports.

Thus I tune it out as I turn my head to the window, toward the bright red sky and the sun’s shining in the sky.