Monday Mornings

Monday Mornings

'Everybody was kung-foo fighting¦,' came the song from the radio resting on the kitchen windowsill.
Maria turned it off with a 'click' and then tipped the dregs of her coffee down the chrome sink. 'It's like kung-foo fighting just getting on the commuter train,' she thought as she took a deep breath and headed for the front door in her smart, black trousers and cream coloured shirt.
She hated Monday mornings. In fact, she hated any work-day morning. She always had to fight her way through the crowds just to get to the local newspaper's head office every day and no one ever seemed to smile or want to talk. It was a miserable start which Maria could well do without, especially considering she was still suffering a little after the night out on Saturday.
She put on her black shoes by the front door and then picked up her brown handbag. It had been a wild night out with the girls, first to a pub and then on to a club. She couldn't remember much about the latter part of the evening thanks to all the drink, and had no idea how she'd got home.
Unlocking the door, Maria stepped out onto the front path. Checking her short, blonde hair in the glass of the door as she shut and locked it, she then turned and began the short walk to the train station.
'Morning,' greeted the postman with a grin as she rounded the end of her street.
'Morning,' responded Maria in surprise, having never previously spoken to him in the three years she'd lived on the street.
She joined the waiting ranks on platform one after buying a magazine at the station shop. A businessman in a dark, pin-stripe suit that she saw nearly every day smiled and nodded at her, even though he'd never so much as acknowledged her existence before.
Maria nodded back. People seemed to be in a better mood than usual and she wondered whether she'd missed an amusing item on the morning news bulletins or something along those lines.
The train pulled into the station with a screech of brakes and the usual crush began as everyone scrambled to board in the vain hope there would actually be seats going spare, but there never was.
Maria ended up standing by the doors as the beeps sounded and they slid shut. The journey only took about ten minutes, but that was long enough in such cramped conditions. She'd never liked playing sardines as a child and hated it even more now she was an adult.
Opening her handbag, she took out the magazine she'd bought at the station. Folding it in half, she just about had space to read the horoscope. 'Monday will be a day filled with smiles,' it said.
'Maybe they've got it right for a change,' she thought as she glanced up and caught a young man staring at her as he stood in the aisle between the packed seats.
He blushed and forced a smile before turning away.
Maria glared at him for a moment and then turned back to the magazine.
The announcement came over the tannoy that they would shortly be arriving at her station and Maria tucked the magazine away. Tightly gripping the hand rail to her left as the train began to slow, she faced the doors and longed for them to open.
When they finally slid aside she was confronted with a crowd of people waiting to get on, leaving only a small gap for those who so desperately wanted to get out of the sardine tin.
Maria took a deep breath and stepped onto the platform. She passed an elderly businessman in a brown, tweed suit who peered over the rim of his half-moon glasses as if recognising her. She glanced over her shoulder to find him watching her and picked up her pace, feeling a little unnerved.
After a brisk walk, Maria arrived at the office block where she worked and went through the glass front doors. 'Morning, Bill,' she said when she passed the chubby security guard in his navy uniform as he stood in the lobby.
'Morning, Maria. I see you made the front page for the first time.'
'Really?' she asked, surprised that her editor in chief had moved her article on a tap dancing chicken to the front page.
Bill nodded. 'Yep,' he replied simply.
Maria smiled as she walked over to the lift, pressed the button, and waited for the doors to slide open.
'Congratulations on hitting the front page,' said Pete, a fellow reporter, as he pulled up beside her and grinned.
'Thanks,' replied Maria. 'I can't believe Linda actually put that article up front.'
'People like a bit of light-hearted news on Mondays, it's a good way to start the week,' he said as the gleaming doors parted before them.
They stepped into the metal box and Pete pressed for the fourth floor, the two of them then journeying upward in silence.
A few cheers rose into the air as Maria stepped out into the open-planned office space filled with reporter's desks.
'Nice one, Maria,' called one of her associates as she blushed and walked over to her desk on the right.
She sat down on the black, office chair and found a folded copy of the newspaper lying in front of her computer keyboard.
Maria smiled as she turned it over and read the headline. 'Saturday Night Streaker,' was written above a photo of a woman with the more explicit areas blurred for the sake of decency.
Maria's smile vanished. In the flash of a camera she suddenly remembered how she'd got home on Saturday night. 'I hate Monday mornings,' she muttered as she stared at the image of herself running naked down one of the city streets.