Working Saturdays

Working Saturdays are the worst. I usually wake up an hour before I have to go in, groggy and out-of-it from the night before. I drag my ass from my bedroom to the shower, to the sink, to my closet, to the fridge, to the front door of my apartment. It is all familiar; it is nearly all the same each week. Now it has become routine. Every Saturday I have to go in midday and close at 6 p.m. Every Saturday I have to see her. She sits diagonally from me. She is a sweet, nice, small young woman. From time to time, I'll see her peak over her computer and look towards the front desk. These two are best friends. She loves her friend very much. They look out for each other. Every Saturday in my time of solitude, I see her on her computer. I can't help but know she is there somehow connected to her friend in some sort of way. It scratches me like a scratch to  an open flesh wound. It hurts, and then hurts some more. I'm trying all I can to detach, move-on, forget, and then I see her. I see you with her on the second day I met you. I see her friend and you walking around downtown Ann Arbor checking out the scene. I see that crazy sunset on top of that parking garage. I see you walking in the library with a friend, and I knew somehow someway someday I was going to hang out with you. I see you freely found your way to me to speak to me for a while; i liked that. I see you inviting me out to downtown Ann Arbor with her after work. I see me and you waiting for her to come outside of the library while you chatted with another friend of yours. I didn't mind. I was happy to be with you in that perfect moment. You smiled and laughed. You were radiant in the final days of summer. Every weekend when I work my Saturday shift, I see her and think of you. I think of you wanting to watch a movie. I think of you telling me all you know about your yoga. I think of you spending the night. Now that you're gone, I can't stop thinking about you entirely. You are in my daydreams, my happy places, and my fondest recent memories. You are in my breath, my blink of an eye, my smirk of a smile, and in my gaze of deep thought. There was once a time where I enjoyed working Saturdays. I enjoyed working Saturdays when I would get off work and go see you. I enjoyed racing through campus just to get to see you  Saturdays. Now I just don't know what to do with myself. Maybe I'll switch shifts for next semester. Maybe one Saturday these memories will fade.