Under the Sky

Monotony

RANG RANG RANG.

I groaned at the sound. My hand fumbled around the blankets, searching for my phone in the darkness. Finally, I felt the hard device and picked it up.

5:32 AM.

I stared at the time with half-open eyes and sighed. Last night, I had online Korean classes and stayed up late to study. My day was just beginning, and I already dreaded the long hours until I could close my eyes and disconnect from this world.

I glanced at the other side of the bed. It was empty, as usual. Another night alone. Owen must be in his study, doing his own thing. Owen was a man of quiet intensity, his light brown hair perpetually tousled as if he had just run his hands through it in a fit of thought. He wore glasses with thin frames that gave him an intellectual, almost distant look, which contrasted sharply with his casual demeanor. His eyes, a soft hazel, often hid behind the reflective surface of his lenses, making it hard to decipher his emotions.

Silencing the alarm, I sat up, ignoring the tiredness weighing down my body, and started preparing for the day ahead. I was the one who mostly worked. Most of the time, I accepted extra hours and double shifts, almost working ten to twelve-hour shifts to earn enough to pay the bills at home.

My job was sore, annoying, and stressful. I had to help people, sometimes dinosaurs, understand and explain how technology worked. I first started as a receptionist in a call center, but I became so good at explaining and solving situations that I was eventually moved to the Technology Department of IME Enterprises. IME Enterprises is one of the largest technology providers for computers, phones, and anything smart-enabled out there.

In the morning, I would wake up to exercise and prepare breakfast and lunch for both of us. Owen, my partner, worked in the same company, but he was a sales representative on the floor, and his shifts were shorter than mine. But today, I was too tired to exercise, and it was already late to do both things and be done by 8 AM.

After making breakfast, I knocked on his study door. "Breakfast is ready."

I walked off to take a quick bath and finish my breakfast while scrolling through social media or reading a short story. By the time I was done, he would come out to pick up his breakfast, usually naked, with his headset on, heading back to his lair. Despite his seemingly relaxed exterior, there was an undercurrent of focus and determination about him, especially when he was engrossed in his work in the study. He had a habit of humming softly, a random tune often accompanying him, creating an odd yet familiar background noise in our shared space.

"I go in at 8 today!" I yelled back, "Do I have to take an Uber, or are you going to take me?"

This was the hassle of having one car and different schedules. I had to struggle so much to get to work on time because of his lack of responsibility. He was usually late for his shifts, but the manager let it slide because Owen always overachieved in sales and brought in profit.

By 7:30, he was finally getting dressed and ready to take me to work. His attire was usually simple: jeans, a T-shirt, and sometimes a flannel shirt thrown over, epitomizing a comfortable blend of practicality and indifference to fashion. The ride was painfully quiet. I was engrossed in my phone, scrolling through the new emails for the day, while he hummed a song through the earbud in his ear.

"See you," I said as he made a stop in front of my building, gathering my things. "I'll call once I'm done."

"Sure. Love you," he replied.

I stopped, looking at him, startled. "Love you too?" I replied, unsure of what to expect. With a deep breath, I turned to face my second hell: work.

As I entered the building, the familiar antiseptic smell of the office greeted me. The fluorescent lights cast a harsh glow, accentuating the sterile environment that awaited me. I settled into my cubicle, the small space filled with the tools of my trade: a computer, a headset, and piles of paperwork that seemed to grow larger each day.

The hours dragged on, each call blending into the next, a monotonous cycle of complaints and technical issues. The brief moments of satisfaction when I successfully resolved a problem were overshadowed by the sheer volume of tasks that demanded my attention. I could feel the weight of exhaustion pressing down on me, my energy draining with each passing minute.

Lunchtime offered a brief respite. I sat in the break room, a sandwich in one hand and my phone in the other, scrolling through social media. The images of friends and acquaintances living seemingly perfect lives only deepened my sense of isolation. I longed for the connection and joy they seemed to effortlessly share.

The afternoon brought more of the same. Calls, emails, troubleshooting. My mind wandered, thoughts drifting back to Owen. Our relationship had become a routine, a series of predictable interactions that lacked the spark and passion we once had. I wondered if he felt the same way, or if he was content with the status quo.