Another Day

So you slowly open your eyes. Rays of light unpleasantly greet your pupils, and in turn you roll over and smother yourself in your drool stained pillow. Unfortunately, the alarm that your mother got you for Christmas is the type that gets louder the longer you leave it on. People know you too well. So you roll over, eyes still pinched shut, and pound the snooze button on top, knocking your reading glasses off of the night stand. Your boyfriend slept through all of your commotion, as usual. Your body starts to get restless after about ten minutes of trying to stay lying on the spring mattress that needs replacing. Carefully you raise your head, that hangover from the night before is hitting you really bad. When you finally get in the sitting position he's noticed and has placed a lazy kiss on your cheek, "Mornin' baby." "G'morning to you too..." you lazily slur. You go to the bathroom trying to wash off the dried mascara. After the accompanied morning shower and breakfast, along with a couple of Aspirins, you're feeling better. The day's going to be no problem. You're finally ready for the day ahead. Your boyfriend has the day off so he takes the liberty of driving you the half an hour ride to the city. You arrive at the destination and kiss him goodbye before entering a sleek metallic skyscraper. You take an elevator to the top floor, and two sharply dressed business people are there waiting your arrival. They lead you into a hallway covered with high fashion pictures covering the maroon walls. That in turn goes into a room filled with lighted windows and counters. At least that's what you think they are, you can't see under all of the makeup scattered on top. There you get prettied up, and go into a photo shoot. You're a model. An hour later and you're finished, and meet your awaiting boyfriend in a café. He makes small talk while finally coming to the dreaded lines, "I think we should see different people." You freak out. You grab your jacket and flee into the street. How could he do this? He was your life. You signal a taxi to take you to your apartment. A day later you're found dead in your apartment. The coroner ruled it an overdose of sleeping pills. You're just another Marilyn Monroe.
But something strange happens. You didn't die. You wake up the next day, except it's the same day. You're still in the same bed wearing the same nightie you wore yesterday. Same guy in your bed as well. You decide to change the events of what happened. Instead of hitting the snooze button again, you get up right away and wake up your boyfriend. You consider dumping him right there, but you decide to wait. You do the same morning rituals, but you think it would be better if you investigated instead of working. Your boyfriend still drives you, but instead of entering the building, you watch him pull out of the parking lot and catch a taxi home. From the street corner where you told the driver to drop you off at, you see an unrecognizable woman enter the apartment complex. You follow her up the stairs, and see her walk into your apartment from the adjoining wall. You feel betrayed but have an "I knew it!" moment. You catch your breath and fix your hair before bursting through the door, finding the two entwined within each other. You scream at him, tell him to get his ass out of your home, and throw all of his belongings out the top floor window. They run out the door. You don't hear from him the rest of the day. Later that night there was a news report. He had been shot by what was thought to be a hired assassin. News reporters were blaming your highly publicized face.
The next day you wake up, the same day yet again. And again. And again. You are doomed to spend eternity in your final day of hell.