i woke up with dried tears still in my eyes and emptiness still riding my shoulders. but there are no tangible traces of sunday, which is perhaps as it should be. like a bad dream, one that creeps in and out of your consciousness for days afterward, but a dream nonetheless. and when people look at me, they have no idea. when i say i have a headache, they believe me. when i say i'm fine, it is their cue to turn their heads around and walk away. and i will just stand here a little while longer, because i don't quite know where to go.