this morning #3.

this morning, the fog hung quite low. she was waking quite early. soon the fog would be gone. soon the sun it would shine. soon the rhyme would be fine. silver linings abound but not found amongst layers of dust & disgust and she must have her coffee & scone before seven. it was one of those days where she had to play nice, with her hair in a bun & her penchant for fighting tamped down by her style. the boardroom. the bathroom. the hallways & crossings. the crossing of people with cross dispositions…& through & through, she mourned her youth. they prayed to get it over with. she wondered about their truths. did they have any? was there any proof? one day she would ask. today she'd get through.