A Different Monday

Elena usually worked in a vast open-plan office by the river, where the day began with the eight o’clock bus and ended, more often than not, with the nine o’clock one. That Monday, however, found her in a small café with her laptop balanced on a table by the window, and she was surprised to discover how little she minded.

“Why aren’t you at the office?” her colleague Mitch asked when he phoned. “There’s no electricity in the building,” she explained, “so I’ve set up here with a cup of coffee.” “Do you often work in cafés?” “Never,” she admitted. “I always assumed the noise would drive me mad.”

She normally drank tea, but the café had run out of her favourite blend, so she had settled for coffee. When a waiter appeared with a plate of toast, she realised with some astonishment that she was hungry, something that rarely happened before lunch. Somewhere behind the counter, a radio was playing a song she hadn’t heard in years.

Mitch, who generally took half a day to answer an email, was now replying within minutes. “I’m rather enjoying this,” he wrote. “I’m in my kitchen, and the cat is asleep on my feet.” Elena smiled. “Does the cat usually contribute?” “Never,” came the reply. “He’s purely decorative.”

At noon, the power returned and the office reopened, but Elena stayed exactly where she was. Outside, the sun had come out, and the street looked freshly washed. “I do my best work here,” she thought, and opened a message to the team: “Perhaps every Monday ought to be different.”