When Catherine Graton awoke that morning she hadn't realized she forgot to brush her hair. It was about three snoozes in to her alarm that she had even gotten up and by that time she was going to be later for work than she liked to be. In an ideal world she would arrive twenty minutes before she needed to clock in, but as it were she'd be lucky to make it within five minutes if she were to stick to her normal routine. It was decided a shower wasn't necessary she had spent forty five minutes on the treadmill the night previous and therefore washed herself immediately following. Due to the strictness of her diet she decided that passing up on her peppered cottage cheese and toast would not be the most advisable thing so with the shower part of her morning routine removed she proceeded into this next step. As she took the last few bites from her sparingly buttered toast she glanced to the digital clock on her microwave and realized that she was still going to be cutting it close. The last remaining grains of pepper were licked from the back of her teeth, and the taste was enough to guide her into the bathroom. Not even here, however, did she even realize that her hair was unkempt. As if guided by a magnetic force her eyes were stuck to her bathroom counter surfaces as she lifted up her toothbrush and floss and went to work on her teeth. It was while the toothbrush was in her mouth that she ventured over to her medicine cabinet and prepared her bottle of mouthwash. She rinsed her mouth and spit and ventured back into her bedroom. Despite knowing that she'd be at the latest on time to her job she still moved at a frantic pace, still determined to make an impression, still intent on going above and beyond the simplest amount of effort. And as she finally zipped and buttoned up her pants and stretched out her legs and touched her toes so that everything fit comfortably she then collected her keys and made her way to the SUV that sat in her garage. As the light from outside shown through the opening that the elevating garage door let in she paused a moment staring at the vehicle. It was a moment that overtook her often and she sighed a deep sigh and climbed inside. Her hair was still a mess.
There was no music played on the way to work. No talk radio boring her to death, and obviously no irritatingly long stretches of advertisements. Not even the sound of empty static. Just the near silent engine accelerating and decelerating. Just the hint of a squeak in her brakes as she came upon every stop sign and every red light. As she looked at the digital read out on her SUV's radio she was calm in the realization that she would be ten minutes early for work. It was a great relief to her because for a moment she could take in that despite the possibility of a horrible start to this ordinary day she had beat the horribleness. Things were working out. They had to work out. The towering office building she was employed at began to form on the horizon as it stretched just above the other bland office buildings. It was in this moment that she reflected, and sighed again. It was going to be a ten hour work day, and that was by her own choosing. She had indeed decided that she she needed as much work to keep her busy, and had requested the work load despite her employer offering some protest to her taking on the amount she wanted. The truth was she enjoyed it, she was occupied in being overwhelmed.
It was here that she pulled into the parking lot of her work. Unfastened her seat belt and let it retract back into its station. Catherine opened the door and the familiar ding rang out to let her know that once again she'd left her keys in the ignition. She wasted no time and retrieved them. As she stepped out and slammed the SUV's door she threw the strap of her purse over her shoulder and walked on to the thick tinted glass doors that were the entrance to her next ten hours. But as she approached she saw the reflection walking closer to the doors, and the tangle and web of her hair was evident. A disaster. She contemplated turning around, and then rummaged a hand about in her purse to see if she had brought a hair brush with her, but gave up knowing that it wasn't in there. It wouldn't have been. She had a routine, so there had been no reason for her to fix her hair, ever. This wasn't right, the wrong of it all blew over her and her knees gave out and she stumbled a moment catching herself on the edge of the sidewalk in front of her building. She righted herself and sat wide eyed with worry.
In front of her was the SUV she had rode in on. The one her husband used to drive, the one she had repaired after the accident. The accident that had taken him from her. In that empty parking lot she stared at it refurbished and alone, and then she looked over at the shabby mess of her hair and she knew she was still broken.
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