Mariana awoke to the blaring of her alarm. She crawled out of bed and headed for the shower catching a glimpse of someone in the mirror and wondered who it could be. Surely that wasn't hers.
Staring at the stranger in the mirror she painted this foreign face.
Turning the keys to her fading blue bug, Marina turned out of the driveway heading to her 9-5 at the New York Times.
About 150 people die each day in New York. "Bloody idiots," Mariana believed. "Too many heroes."
Lunch. Mariana hated lunch. Surrounded by people writing because they care. Mariana wrote because it kept her busy.
Mariana only had to finish the last obituary. This one was put in by some loser's boss. The guy caught his hand in the wood chipper and got yanked in. A real winner for the Darwin awards. "A hard worker, compassionate, and attentive employee," the boss had written. Mariana paused. How easy it would be to change it. To tell the truth. "A moronic, inattentive, fool..." She'd probably be fired if she had the guts to do that. Self preservation took over.
Mariana decided to take a walk to grab some household things. She'd made a list earlier in the day and knew that she would need shampoo, dish soap, and laundry detergent.
Downtown New York was interesting. "Art" on all the walls. Mariana sneered at the lines. Nothing like calling vandalism art.
The world was eating dinner. Mariana was never hungry it seemed.