Fuck Saturday

The sun rose, shining through the curtains and blinds. Though my eyes weren't open, I could feel the light coming through them. I slowly opened them and rolled over. Almost falling off the couch, I caught myself, waking myself up quickly. I pull my head up and look over at the bed. My girlfriend, or was she my ex-girlfriend now, I'm not sure, the argument was very confusing. But whatever relation she was to me, she lay there, in my bed, but not with her holding her close, as happened every other night. It wasn't always like this of course, we used to be a lot closer. Even yesterday started out great.

I felt a peck on my cheek.
"wake up beautiful."
"Ha ha ha," I thought to myself, pulling myself out of sleep.
"Wake up sleepyhead," she said.
"I'm up,, I'm up already," I told her, lying through my teeth.
She threw the covers off, taking away my final rung on the sleep ladder. I opened my eyes to see her get out of bed, her normal morning attire of boy shorts and some old t-shirt walking towards the bathroom. I got out of bed, put the sheets back on, and yawned again. Another late night, like the kinds I wished for when I was single. I flipped on the TV, the news on as usual, and sat down on the couch. She came out the bathroom and sat down next to me, my arm instinctively moving around her. Her long brown hair laid upon my arm, those deep brown eyes staring forward, but I know they were thinking of me. I leaned over, gave her a kiss on the cheek, and smiled, just as she did.
"God damn," I thought to myself, "Who knew stereotypes could be so nice?"
She got up after a few minutes and walked over towards the kitchen.
"What do you want for breakfast?" she yelled back to me.
"Eggs and toast, dear," I yelled back to her.
After a few more minutes watching the news, which in all honesty I would watch all day if it wasn't for her, I got up and made my own way to the kitchen. I reached to grab the coffee grounds out of the cupboard, but quickly noticing the scent of coffee already in the air, I reach for my mug and poor myself some. She was pretty great for things like this, but it's not like she was some housewife, I did stuff like this for her all the time. She finishes cooking breakfast, and sets it out on the table. We each eat our breakfast, looking across at each other and just laughing like two idiots. If I could say so to the world, I would define this as bliss. But I couldn't. I couldn't say this to the world, because it would be a lie. There is no peck on the cheek on the waking up, just the floor next to me. No arm around her, just a fist through the wall. No special breakfast in the morning, just waking up at 4 in the afternoon with empty pop cans sitting on the computer desk, the only reminder of a long night alone.