PDA

Every morning I walk down the same road, earlier than I thought I would be. A monotonous job which requires no thought or initiative. I hated my last job, but I find myself wishing I was still there. Every morning I feel the same about my day ahead.
Contempt.
I leave without a smile and start my day begrudgingly. With the help of numbing music, it passes quickly. Another day packed in a cardboard box. My motives are questioned.
I finish quickly and look forward to my walk home, not because of my destination or the realisation that another shift is over, but because of what I will pass on my return journey.
As I swiftly make my way over the concrete path, passing shops and parked cars; I look out for my smile. It passes in a second and I'm on the other side, more concrete, more shops, more cars.
Its ok, I can see it again tomorrow.