❝If each day is a 'gift', I'd like to know where I can return Mondays.❞

~ Unknown

❅    ❅    ❅

     "Sir, please," I begged my boss, Johnson, who sat in his new leather office chair, looking all content and rudely blowing a puff of cigarette smoke into my face. He shuffled through the paper mountain on his desk, as if he were looking for an important document.  Pfft. The lazy old man didn't do a single useful thing around here—considering he owned the building.

     "No, Mitch. We just can't afford your lousy work ethics anymore." He said angrily, his particularly large forehead creasing. "Now, if I were you, I'd get on out of here before somebody has to come and make you get out."

     My jaw nearly dropped to the floor.  Lousy work ethics?  There was no way that this was real—he must've had the wrong employee.  I was the best pharmaceutical sales representative in the company! 

     I wanted to say something.  It was time that I'd learned to stand my ground with the guy.  He'd pushed me around for years, lowered my pay, and always threatened me just to get his way.  I was fed up.

     But as I thought the idea over within those short few moments, I decided not to waste my breath.  Only now was I realizing that I shouldn't have even stayed in business with him for so long; I really should've quit ages ago.

     Swallowing my frustrations, I took a deep breath.  I noticed a single bead of sweat drizzle down his glossy, red-hued face, and he sat motionless in the exact same position as he did what felt like several minutes ago.  His hand was clenched, knuckles white, and pressing into the mahogany desk with such strength that his bicep muscles began to bulge through his thin workout sweatshirt.  And as for his other hand, it was behind his back and the palm was flat, resting on the gray wall behind him, almost as if he were trying to hide the obvious fact that he wanted to throw a punch.

     His entire appearance reminded me of my eighth grade gym teacher, causing me to want to laugh at the mental picture I'd visualized. But I kept a straight face and said, with all maturity, "Thank you for your time."

     Then, with his flickering gaze still locked on me, I walked out of the office without making eye contact with a single coworker.  I knew I was being watched by at least half the entire crew, hence the nearly dead silence that rang in my ears as I walked out through the big glass doors for the final time, not bothering to say goodbye to anyone; not just because of my not feeling down for it, but because I just wanted out of that building.

At this time, I didn't feel anything. I didn't care that I'd just lost my job. I focused on my destination and began readying my keys in-between my fingers, so that I could quickly unlock the car and start the ignition. I fiddled with the worn 2011 Mickey Mouse keyring, an old gift from my ex-girlfriend, Kathleen Hubers. I guess I'd never really bothered to change it out for another one, being so involved with work and, well, more important things.

...Or maybe I just didn't want to admit the fact that I missed her.

I suddenly broke into laughter. Mitchell, what are you talking about? Kath never cared about you. You were simply another inconvenience in her constructed little world, after three painstakingly long and dreadful years together.

Our relationship had started off great, I recalled. We were nineteen, younger and happier and oddly satisfied with all things simplistic. Though we were both attending different universities, we still made time to spend together on the weekends. We would visit old train museums and thrift shops to explore and adventure something different than most would even consider. Aside from that, we typically avoided modern-day activities whenever possible. We often drove out to dying little towns to watch the sunset from the hilltops, and as the stars came into view at dark, talked about our planned future theories together.

But she betrayed you.

My smile faded. I knew that I tried to avoid thinking about her most of the time, specifically for the fear of this emotion; this emotion that feels like pain and worry and panic of loss and heartbreak all at the same time, and you aren't sure what's going on, nor are you able to grasp ahold of the issue.

Yeah, Kathleen left me.  She left me because she disregarded my own feelings and always put herself before me.  She was selfish, and that became the leading cause of our bickering.  Not to mention, she would turn it around and make it seem like I were the one to blame for whatever happened to be the reason of an undeniably stupid argument. 

Her guilt-tripping was the worst of all.  If she knew she was wrong, she could never admit to that.  Instead, she attempted to make me feel sympathy for her and her little self-esteem, which was completely ridiculous because, considering how narcissistic her personality seemed, she thought awfully highly of herself. 

But the reason it made me sad when she popped into my head was because she wasn't always like this.  She once truly was an amazing girl, and what I thought was a miracle to save me from such a dull, unromantic life.  But I guess I had gotten so lost in the moments that it was too late to realize what was going on.  I was patient, and held on in hopes of her returning to who she used to be: a beautiful, spunky redhead who was never afraid to speak her mind, and saw light somewhere in the darkness of our falling society.

Except she never did come back, and left me stranded on a planet she created, with no clear path back to Earth.

My thoughts were interrupted when my coworker, Charlie—who also happened to be my neighbor—called my name and jogged over just before I could climb into my vehicle. 

"Mitch, wait!"

I turned.

His medium-blonde hair, this morning precisely combed back with gel, now had a few loose strands blowing annoyingly into his eyes every time the December wind picked up.  "What happened with the big guy?  Why are you leaving early?"

I sighed, and rubbed my eyebrows.  "Well, Charlie, I'm sorta fired." 

"Oh no!  That's such a shame.  When he first called you into his office, I presumed he was going to give you a promotion."  he shook his head and stared down at the concrete for a bit, and then looked back at me.  "What about your place?  I hear the rent went up today."

Oh God, I thought. Why didn't I even think about that?  How am I supposed to pay for my apartment without a job?

"I don't know.  I'm not sure if I can afford it."

After I said that, a daring look flashed in his light-blue eyes for only a mere second; but I caught it, and he still tried to hide it.

"That really sucks."  he frowned, faking his empathy. "Well, I gotta get back to work, or he'll fire me too.  Good luck, man."

"Thanks."  I muttered, and got into my 2008 black BMW model.  It was in fairly good condition for it being passed through the ownership of two other family members before me.

As I was about to pull out of the parking lot, my laptop bleeped, signaling I had received an email.  I grabbed it from off the passenger seat and opened the screen to check it quickly; I didn't want to be seen sitting here in front of the company I'd just gotten fired from.

The message was from my mum, and I saw it had been sent to my brother as well.  I clicked it open, and read the small block of text:

Mitchell and Burke,

When you come up tomorrow, please do not forget to bring a sweater to wear for our annual Christmas Eve Ugly Sweater Party.  Love you both, see you tomorrow evening!

- Sent from [email protected]

Shoot!  I totally forgot about that.  I closed the Mac and laid it on top of my coat beside me, then drove away from my reserved parking space for the last time.  Taking a deep breath, off to Kmart I went.

❅ ❅ ❅ 

You would think that people would've already gotten all of their gift shopping done long before two days prior to Christmas Day.

But no. Parents and grandparents of diverse cultures and ethnicities were here, running about with wishlists in their hands, trying to find the correct toy or electronic that their child had wanted ever so badly this winter. 

You see, I was smart.  I made it easier for everyone by not having to put up with the hassle of possibly giving bad presents.  Instead, I purchased clearance photo frames a week in advance, one for each family member, and placed an adorable image of my Persian cat, Neon, inside them.  As for my two twin nephews, who likely wouldn't find an interest in that, I wrapped them each their own individual artist starter kit, for I had been told they'd recently been obsessed with coloring and drawing and had euphoric passions to sell their work one day.  It was easy and fun for all.

After mumbling multiple excuse me's and pardon me's among the crowd, I'd finally found my way to the on-sale sweater section.  There were a variety to choose from, and I thought, wow, I lucked out.  But then, taking a closer look at the labels, I realized that I was in the womens' department.

A jolt of embarrassment shot down my spine.  I looked around and noticed only females shopping in this area. Nice one, Mitch.

I began to walk in the opposite direction to search for someone who could help me find the mens' sweaters. But then I made the choice to just grab one of the womens' sweaters and run, since all the noticeable staff seemed to be busy talking with infuriated customers.

After a long wait at checkout, I finally got to the front of the line and paid roughly six dollars.  I realized I didn't even glance at which sweater I'd just bought. But come to think of it, I wouldn't have really minded what design the sweater had on it; they were all Christmas-themed.  When the register worker held it up for me and then folded it neatly into a bag, I saw it was a corny, drunk-looking reindeer with some supposedly humorous message beneath its neck, where the pattern stopped and had a line of red and green miniature jingling bells. That was going to get on my nerves, I predicted.

The crimson sun was beginning to fall in the foggy horizon when I exited the store.  The air was cold, yet calm and peaceful.  I inhaled the nostalgic smell of fresh pine trees, an aroma lingering in my direction from the not-too-far-away closed off portion of the parking lot, where an unknown business stayed temporarily for their seasonal visitation to sell Christmas trees to the public.  Either way, whether the scent had been there or not, I would've still enjoyed the chilly breeze.  Because the following day, it would be horridly freezing. 

Back at my place, I ascended the familiar steps to my upstairs apartment.  Slid inside the door handle was a blue envelope that had 'Notice' scrawled across the front.  I sighed, already knowing what it was for.

I unlocked the door and locked it again on the inside, wiping the moisture of my shoes on the welcome mat in the process. Tearing through the seal with my finger, I removed the letter and unfolded it.  To my surprise, it was nothing like what I was expecting. I scanned the page in shock.

Dear Mr. Davidson,

It has been brought to our attention that you are in no way able to pay for your upcoming increased rent due to insufficient work and financial issues. We understand what you are experiencing, but unfortunately, we cannot hold you as a resident here free of charge. We ask politely that you and your personal items and/or furniture be removed from your apartment within the following seven days. If you feel that there is an error on our behalf, feel free to contact the complex owner before your deadline. Thank you for your cooperation.

Sincerely,
Rosewater Apartments Team

I couldn't believe it.  How could they have obtained this information within such a short period of time?  I mean, I'd literally just gotten fired not an hour and a half ago.

Then it hit me.

Charlie.

I knew he had been up to something!  ...I just never thought he would go to such extent.

This truly was an inconvenience, especially at this time of year.  Had he no heart?

And now, I would have to clear things up; but I would be doing it just before my deadline was up, since I wouldn't be in town tomorrow or for the next five days.

I smacked my head hard. This entire mess was my fault for trusting Charlie with a simple statement I wouldn't have ever even thought someone like him would use against me. But he did, and it was too late.

I crinkled the letter, envelope and all, and hurled it off into the kitchen. A clang noise immediately came after that action, but I didn't really pay any mind to it because it sounded like a knife falling onto the ugly checkerboard tiles—which is what it probably was.

Frustrated, I yanked my expensive coat off and tossed it carelessly on top of the black leather couch—that sat in front of the television—in my tiny living room. There were three dark wooden shelves in the corner next to the window withholding a few dusty knick-knacks and some pictures of Kathleen and I together, but that was about it. In front of the couch, there was a small glass table with a single blue orchid inside a clear vase: my favorite flower. All of the walls in my apartment were a creamy white color, but according to what past guests had said, it looked no different than plain, boring white.  The place wasn't very interesting.

I headed down the hall and into my bedroom.  If you thought the rest of my apartment was ordinary, then my room couldn't get any worse than that.  There was a mattress on the floor in the corner, neatly made up with a teal comforter and yellow sheets underneath.  Across from that, on the other wall, there was a tall dresser in which I only stored miscellaneous things in.  I had complete desk with all the supplies I needed next to my fairly decent-sized walk-in closet.

I began to undress and pry my work suit from my body so I could change into more comfortable clothing. 

After putting on some tattered jeans and a sweatshirt, I walked out and into the bathroom to look at myself in the mirror.  My eyes and hair had always been in perfect color-sync: dark brown. But tonight, my eyes seemed a shade lighter, with a bit of red mixed in from the minimal sleeping I'd been getting for the past couple of nights.  I wasn't sure why, but something had been dawning over me and keeping me awake.  I also didn't specifically know what it was, for that matter.

In the silence, I eventually starting hearing faint snoring coming from inside my room.  I could see that in the reflection of the mirror, the suitcase in my bedroom behind me had a mysterious lump shadowing on top.

I smiled when she began fidgeting to find the right position to lay in.  Neon was once a stray, believe it or not. Kathleen and I, just a few months into our relationship, had been driving through Breckenridge, Colorado, not too far from my current location.  It was nighttime, and Kath pointed out something on the side of the road.  She insisted that I pull over, so I did, and we discovered that the unidentifiable object was actually a helpless little kitten, caked in grime, grease, and oil. We both felt so bad for the poor little creature that we decided to take it home, give it a good cleaning, and then adopt it as our own.  Kathleen suggested the name Neon at the time because, in the midst of its messy fur, there was a big splash of vibrant colors, as if the cat had just barely escaped from a paint shop catastrophe.

And since pets weren't allowed in her college's dormitories, Kath let me keep Neon at my apartment.  The little white fluffball's been here ever since.

I glanced at my wristwatch.  It was 6:25 pm, so I decided I would start packing my belongings for the long car ride ahead of me in the morning. My entire family, soon including my brother and I, were staying up in the mountains at my grandparents' rental cabin for the holidays, about four hours away.  My concern wasn't the trip, no, not at all... but rather, how I'd tell them I got fired and kicked out of my apartment complex both in the same day.