Sunday

It's Sunday afternoon and the light is beginning to fade. There it is — that tension. Soft, but persistent. A low hum in the background.

Common enough. Monday is coming.

For years mine was something else. A quiet sense that the path I was on, however right it once seemed, was no longer mine. I felt it most on Sunday afternoons and I never once acted on it. I told myself it was just the weekend ending.

It took me a long time to work out it wasn't.