Mondays, as they said, were always blue. There seemed to be an invisible routine for us. Each Monday morning he would walk into my room, wake me up, brush his cold lips on my cheek and walk out of the room. I would change into that dreadful purple outfit and step out of my room. We'd sit in silence as I quietly chewed on my toast; as he calmly flipped through the morning papers. Then he would quietly inform me that it was time to go. I would stand and meekly follow behind him, opening the car door for myself, getting in and he would send me to the office, where I would face countless paperwork and meetings.
When we first arrived in Orb, he would enter my room at 11pm sharp, and drag me to bed, no matter how much I protested. He would then hug me tight as we slept, securing the invisible, yet unbreakable bond between us. But recently, he would just enter my office at 11pm sharp, tell me not to work too late and that he was going home. And I would watch as his convertible left the parliament, wondering whether he would turn back and drag me like he did.
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