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  • Writer's pictureElijah Ricks

The Week After

Yeah, your alarm wakes you from that and you roll over and mumble some sort of soft profanity as you realize the vacation is over and reality is here with a vengeance…

You walk through the door at work and make eye contact with a coworker who’s just been woken from that same dream. Neither of you says anything; neither needs to say anything. That look on your faces is enough. It seems to say, “Yes, work stinks. I’d rather be doing just about anything else right now, but it’s only 38 days until the 4th of July, right? That will keep us going…think of the 4th…”

And somehow by Wednesday, that glorious extra day of freedom seems a cloudy fantasy. Maybe it never actually happened. Maybe it was a moment that existed only somewhere in the cells of your brain, along with that hammock on that beach. Alas… only 33 more days until the next oasis: Independence Day.

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