Semi-Daily Scribbles

Maia examined the shiny face in the bathroom mirror. She didn't look like she thought she ought to on her first day of work. First day of work anywhere. Ever. Instead of a composed professional heading out the door, Maia saw a scared 14-year-old dressed up in clothes she stole from her mother's closet. A trickle of tear mixed with drugstore mascara left a skid mark on her cheek. Maia wasn't crying, but she definitely was not happy about every pore, duct, and orifice secreting vital life essence. She was sure her last ounce of luck had been sweated out her left armpit. Another shower would put her back in the game, but Maia didn't have the time. Not anymore, anyway. At 37, Maia couldn't remember what she did with the last decade. She'd be more careful with her months and years from now on. Starting with today. At least today would be different.