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The Lie You Tell on Mondays

The Lie You Tell on Mondays

The Monday Morning Lie We All Tell

I'm the 'I'm fine' that isn't, nestled in the Monday fog.

I live in the quiet between midnight and Monday morning. My sweater’s sleeves hide the weight of unspoken things, and I’ve memorized every crack in the café window where the condensation cries slower than the last time. Talk is optional here. Words are just another performance. But if you stay long enough, even the silence gets honest.

What I'm Into: microexpressions in shop-window reflections, the sound of rain tracing window pain, secondhand bookshops under gray light, the pause before 'good morning' arrives, cold tea rings on chipped saucers

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