Surrender 01 - Surrender

in while she was growing up and accompanying them on missions throughout the world.
    She’d been a little offended at first that they’d gone to such a stunning place, when she’d been to third-world locations her entire life, but then her petty thoughts had been withdrawn as she realized they were aging, and it was their time to enjoy a few extra comforts.
    Here Monica was — twenty-six years old, still single, and living all alone in the low rent district of Seattle. She thought it was time she tried to pull herself together. She was too afraid to tell her parents how much she was throwing her life away. She vowed to make some changes, starting immediately.
    Monica stepped out of the bathroom fully dressed in her run-of-the-mill barista uniform, consisting of typical black polyester pants and a white polo shirt. She was already late enough, so near panic struck when she couldn’t find the final piece of her uniform, the maroon apron. She couldn’t imagine where she’d tossed it. She did a frantic search through the apartment, even dumping out a couple of laundry baskets and quickly digging through the piles.
    At that moment she was about to give up and be forced to purchase another one, something she’d already had to do three times, a thick strap caught her attention, and she pulled it from the pile. With a relieved sigh she slipped the colored apron over her head, and then tied her hair up into a sloppy bun while next looking for her keys and airport identification badge.
    Unfortunately, her stressful morning wasn’t uncommon for Monica as she was great at multi-tasking, but a very poor time-manager. In the very last place she could think to look, she grabbed the tan, woven basket by her front door, which seemed to collect everything from receipts to hair ties, and spilled the contents onto the table.
    Nearly smiling, she picked up her blue lanyard and keys from the mess, thinking she really hated the large picture of her face plastered across the front of her badge. Knowing she had no more time to linger, she stuffed her acquired belongings into her purse and bolted out the door, slamming it shut behind her.
    She made it to the front of the elevator at the end of the hallway before it dawned on her that she’d forgotten to lock her door. Letting out a frustrated sigh, she did an about face and sprinted back to her apartment. She made quick work of locking her door, and then bolted back to the elevator. A door opened a few apartments down and Monica's worst fear stepped out.
    “Hey Monica. Where you off to in such a hurry?” It was Todd, the creepy, annoying college dropout who always made her uncomfortable. On this frantic morning, she refused to let him faze her, though.
    “Not now, Todd,” she replied as she sprinted past him, avoiding eye contact. Monica knew that her building elevator was as slow as molasses so to prevent any additional interaction she opted for the stairs, feeling his gaze boring into her back the entire way. As she bolted down the stairs, she kept her ears tuned to the sound of opening doors, a bit frightened the creep would follow her.
    She was now becoming severely late for work and every moment could potentially cost her the job. Her subconscious kept giving her the annoying reminder she’d been late to work three times in the last two weeks. She’d been warned that if she was tardy one more time, she was out of there.
    She burst through the lobby stairs entrance just as another flash of lightning and loud clap of thunder rumbled through the old building.
    “Sounds like another typical day in the Pacific Northwest,” shouted Mr. Sherman, Monica’s next door neighbor and “resident grandpa” figure, who was having a seat while waiting for the mail.
    “Yep. Sounds like it,” she responded, sounding less enthusiastic about the storm as she saw the rain sheeting off the awning outside. Though she still loved a great storm, she preferred watching them while inside a warm building.
    “What's got such a pretty girl on the run?”
    Monica slowed and turned, walking backward so she wouldn’t offend Mr. Sherman who was always nice to her.
    “It seems that's how my life is, constantly in fast forward.” Mr. Sherman, always full of knowledge from his life experiences, stood up from his bench.
    “Well, you know, Darling, if you don't learn to slow down a bit, you'll pass right on by all the good parts of life.” Monica, now slowing to an almost stop, took his words to