Thursday, April 2: I wake up early, make some coffee, check my e-mail.  I'm more awake and alert than usual this morning; knowing that I have a meeting with my boss, who flew in last night, tends to do that. 

 Shivering a little inside, I shower and dress.  I pull on one of my favorite black-and-white patterened skirts (one that I'll never want to wear again after today) and a black sweater and boots.  While munching a slice of toast,  I throw a tangerine and a Gala apple in my bag, something to eat at my desk later - I know it'll be a busy day.  

 My husband is kind enough to drive me to work.  We kiss goodbye, I grab a venti unsweetened black iced tea at the Starbucks in the building lobby, and take two elevators to get to my office.   My boss is in the same room he always uses for these meetings; I sit at the small conference table and sip my tea, waiting for him to finish typing something on his laptop.   He looks up as the door that I'd just shut opens again; I think it must be our team lead coming to join us, but it's a woman I've never seen before.

 This can't be good, I think.

It isn't.  "We have some serious stuff to discuss," my boss tells me, "Your position is being eliminated."

And everything after that is a bit of a blur.  It's embarrassing, but I literally cannot stop crying.  No heaving sobs or dramatic choking, just tears streaming steadily down my cheeks.  I blow my nose again and again and wish that either they or I could just disappear.  The HR lady tries to be comforting and that just undoes me further; finally, my boss tells me I can take the rest of the day off (and Friday too, if I'd like) and disappears to inform my co-workers of the news.

I walk back to my desk in a nearly-empty row, grateful that I don't have to see my co-workers, clutching my severance packet and trying not to look like I'd been crying for fifteen minutes straight.  My husband is a freelancer and we'd really been depending on my salary...I know I'll be working for another month and will get severance after that...what are we going to do...can't even think right now. 

Wandering out of the office, walking on autopilot, I make it to the bus stop and stare up at the Opera House, where someone just jumped to their death the other day.  Had they just lost their job?  Did they feel like everything in their life was two steps forward and ten steps back? 

That afternoon is spent in a state of shock; I wander my apartment like a ghost, not knowing what to do with myself.  I read almost an entire novel and smoke too many cigarettes.  Later, I'll drink a small lake of wine with my sister and a friend and feel slightly better.  When I finally get home again, stumbling a little, I toss my bag and keys on the table and an apple rolls out.  I peer into my bag, squinting, and remember the snacks - there's the tangerine, too.  They strike me as funny in the way things do after that much to drink, and I have to laugh.  And it hasn't been such a bad day after all.