Mondays.

The first time I laid eyes on her I just knew there was somethin about her. It was this feeling I had, somethin indescribable, somethin I could feel from deep down inside me, just cryin out, “She’s not like anyone else. She is different.” I can remember the first time I saw her. It was a Monday morning. Springtime. I can remember because I was having my coffee outside. She was wearing a flower print dress, nothin fancy; she prolly picked it up at one of those discount stores. I looked up from the paper to see her walkin across the street towards me. Not that she was crossing to see me, just that she was comin in my direction. Anyway, she just kept walkin and turned the corner and just kept going.

I don’t know what about her grabbed my attention. She wasn’t that good lookin. It must'a been the way she moved. Some people, when they move, they just seem to glide along. Yeah, that’s it. The funny thing is though, she didn’t even check both ways before crossing. That’s something every American kid learns in elementary school: “Look both ways before crossing the street.” But she jus walked straight on across the road. Anyway, the way she moved… it was amazing. Absolutely captivatin. She must’ve been a dancer or something, I swear.

Like I said, she just walked across the street and onto the sidewalk and turned and kept walking. It was the middle of the block too; I didn’t understand why she didn’t just use the zebra crossing a couple of yards down. I mean, it’s not like she didn’t go by it. It wasn’t out of the way or nothing.

I saw her again the next Monday. And every Monday after that, to be sure. Doing the same thing. Cross the street without lookin, turn up the road when she got to the other side and keep walkin. I got to wondering about where she was going to. It seemed like she had something important to do, that’s why she had that serious look on her face. I thought up a buncha different stories for her. Like, she was going to visit her sick grandmother in the hospital, kinda like Red Riding Hood or somethin. Or maybe she was a war widow goin to visit her husband in the cemetery. Or she was a rich heiress goin to the bank to withdraw from the trust fund her daddy left her. Anyway, I dreamed up all these stupid ideas when I saw her cross that street. It kinda worked its way into a game for me. Each week I’d come up with a new character for her to be, with background and what have you. But I never really knew for sure, I just kept comin up with these ideas.

I suppose I shoulda wrote ‘em down somewhere. I coulda written a book about her with all the ideas I had, I swear. I’m always forgetting things, so I know I should write stuff down, but the thing is, when I do write my ideas down, I forget where I wrote ‘em at. But the thing is, I was only thinkin up stuff; I never knew for sure who she was or where she was goin to. Every week she would just walk across that street with that stone face of hers and then keep on walking.

I tried following her once, when my imagination was runnin like crazy and I just had to know where she was going. She walked a long ways, like four or five blocks, then turned and by the time I rounded the corner too she wasn’t in sight.

Up ‘till yesterday I figured I’d never know her name or where she was goin to or anything like that. I mean, I’m not the type a guy that people just come up to on the street and start telling all about themselves. But then yesterday… man...

I was in the same place that I usually am on Mondays. I saw her across the street, same place she always is on Mondays. She started walkin across, same way she always does on Mondays. But then somethin caught my eye. Somethin out of the corner of my eye, somethin moving. It was a butterfly, floatin along in the air. So peaceful. So beautiful. Just floating along in the air, graceful-like.

Then this guy in a truck lays on the horn. Crazy like. I swear, it really startled me. Anyway, I forget all about the butterfly to see what’s goin on. He’s about to run into her, nothin he can do, he’s right up on top of her. I dunno why he didn’t see her before, not like she wasn’t right out in the open or anything. And she had already crossed the first lane, the truck was up on my side of the street. Anyways, I look at her face, but she’s not at all scared. Like there’s absolutely no emotion there at all. Like she doesn’t even notice. And I swear, she was looking right at me. I could feel her eyes staring at me. You know that feeling when you’re in a crowded room and you know someone’s starin at you and then somehow you look right at that person? Well, that’s how I felt right then. But it was even weirder, because, I mean, she was about to get hit by a truck. Man, those eyes… I’ll never forget that look in her eyes. The way she was starin at me, it was almost like she was tryin to tell me something. Like she had this big secret and she was choosin me out of all the people in the world to tell it to.

Everythin else was a blur, but not those eyes. I hear she got thrown a hundred feet when that truck hit her, and she died just like that. But I swear I could still feel those eyes on me. Even after the ambulance showed up, it was like she was still there starin at me; I hadn’t moved an inch. I guess it was such a shock to see that happen. But it felt like time had stopped just where I was sittin and where she was standin but everything else around had kept goin. I don’t really know how else to describe it.

I’ll never think about Mondays the same way again, I swear.