Harmonee sits alone at her tiny table for two in her one-bedroom apartment. It seems she has always been alone. She is so tired of being alone. She is 22. Tomorrow is her birthday. Tomorrow is the day.

Her finger touches the edge of the grey rectangle lying in front of her and starts pushing it in circles on the table. She looks up at the cat clock tick-tocking on her kitchen wall. Its eyes going back in forth in unison with its tail…all the while staring at her with that evil grin on its face. Watching the tail dance back and forth, she gets lost in her thoughts.

Her mother was always better at things if she were on her back or even her knees rather than motherhood or marriage. Her father ~ if he even is her biological father ~ would rather have found his next fix instead of paying attention to the little girl in the corner playing with the flea market Barbies. Her childhood memories were not like the ones mentioned in Candyland dreams. At school all the kids knew of her parents’ comings and goings. The other moms and dads did not allow their kids to even talk to her. Her recesses were spent alone swinging with her imaginary friend singing songs. Just trying to get through the day.

Later as she grew older, the absence of friends molded itself into daily taunts from the same children that shunned her in grade school. “Harmonee ~ on her knees. Harmonee ~ always aims to please.” *She chuckles as she remembers this. Geez ~ her mom couldn’t even get her name right. Who in their right mind spells Harmonee with two E’s instead of a Y???* Harmonee did not even go to her own graduation. She had no desire to attend.

The last few years have been filled with the 9 to 5 she found through a temp agency. She goes to work every day and smiles like all is well. But it is not. Even as an adult ~ she doesn’t fit in. Her choice of clothes and music and movies are not the norm it seems in corporate America. She never gets invites to lunch. She doesn’t even get those stupid office emails that everyone else forwards to everyone else. Seems she is not everyone else.

Her clock chimes midnight and brings her back to reality. She looks up again. It’s her birthday.

Her whole life she has been pushed aside....looked past....forgotten. But that was about to change. Today...her day ~ the day she was given life would also be the day she would take that life.

And she would not be pushed aside....looked past....forgotten. Her parents who lived for themselves ~ the children who shunned her ~ the teens who taunted her ~ the co-workers that simply ignored her on a daily basis for once would notice her. Not because they wanted to, but because they had to. When word spread about what she had done and how she had done it, they would seek her out. They would Google and search until their morbid curiosity was feed by her last wishes.

They would listen to every word she said to them. Every frozen moment displayed for them to soak in. They would remember when she spoke about certain memories. Then they would sit motionless as they watched her bleed out into the water turning it a crimson red. Her blond hair floating on the surface. Her eyes closing its final time.

Yes ~ they would finally pay attention to her.

Today was her day. Her birthday. She was ready.

She touched the gray rectangle on the table.

Picked it up and hit record.

01/29/2008

Author's Note: the prompt was ~ record

Posted on 01/30/2008
Copyright © 2025 Shonda Chrissonberry