Most days are the same for most people.
The average person wakes up, hearing their rusty alarm clocks somewhere in the foggy atmosphere called sleep that encapsulated their bodies. Some spring forward like revved-up engines, while others initially respond as though pulling themselves from a backyard pool filled with molasses. Somewhere today, a woman will arise, wearily opening her eyes to a brightly filled room of antique furniture, expensive silk flowers and mauve taffeta pillows. In the midst of such external beauty she will be alone, under the mistaken impression that her lover was on a business trip, when in reality he had spent much of the previous night in another woman's arms - a woman half her own age. Twenty years ago today, a white-haired woman opened her eyes, merely to find that the man next to her, whom she'd spent the last thirty years of her life loving, was not about to do the same.