That night she couldn't sleep. Thoughts of the little family discussion had her tossing
and turning late into the night...in fact, the last thing she remembered seeing before her
eyes closed was the thick red 4:35 A.M. displayed on her alarm clock.
The next morning Renee woke to hear Jeff humming. Her head ached and her sinuses
cried out for medication; she thought that Afrin or Nasonex would feel wonderful. She
turned once again to the alarm clock, and was surprised to see that it was close to twelve
in the afternoon. Disgusted that she had slept so late and was due to work in about two
hours, she wandered into the kitchen, where her dog looked at her expectedly.
She hurriedly poured Iams kibble into the blue bowl on the floor and shuffled over to
where her fiancee was standing, cooking what appeared to be...actually, she didn't know
what it appeared to be. She rested her head on his shoulder and sighed, taking the spatula
from his hand and kissing his neck.
Renee reached for the Nasonex and sniffled it into her nose, annoyed to see the pile of
dirty laundry by the doorstep, beckoning to her to wash, dry, and fold them before she
punched in at work at 1:00 that afternoon. As she started the shower, she heard Jeff
emptying his creation (what he had hoped to be breakfast) into the trash.
* * *
After drinking the last of the French vanilla coffee from the Styrofoam cup, Renee
walked into work, showed her identification badge, and walked swiftly up the three
flights of stairs to where her cubicle was located. Several of her co.-workers were
already there, gossiping or sharing donuts and the like. Margaret, the dark haired,
mysterious woman who seemed obsessed with the Bible, dragons, witches, and magic all
at the same time, sat alone in a corner, eating a glazed donut silently.
Hey Margo, Renee said, leaning against the windowsill and peering at the woman.
What's up? Actually, I'm not in the mood. Go away, Margaret replied, in her quiet,
flat voice.
Bitchy. Hangover, or what? Renee said, turning away and walking to where her friend,
Kyle sat, looking at a poster of Ricky Martin.
Renee, look at his butt and tell me it isn't W-O-N-D-E-R-F-U-L, Kyle swooned,
pointing at the picture posted above his computer.
Kyle, why do you have to be so G-A-Y? Renee laughed, massaging her friend's
shoulder. The guy was nice, so what if he was gay? It was this kind of thing that had
Renee worried. If being a nice, not prejudiced, caring person wasn't enough to get into
heaven and avoid the Tribulation predicted in the Bible, how would she ever escape the
wrath of the Lamb?
Renee looked at the clock, noticing that her shift was about to start. Sitting at the
computer once more, she logged in, put on a pair of headphones, and answered the first
incoming call.
Good morning, this is Renee, how may I direct your call?
TO BE CONTINUED.....