My Name Wasn't on the Board

the new schedule goes up on the corkboard by the time clock, always the last thursday of the month. dana prints it, four pages, staples the corner so it doesn't curl.

i wasn't going to look until my break but the break room was empty and the coffee was doing that burnt-bottom smell, so i stood there and read the whole month.

my name's on the first three weeks. then the last week the grid just keeps going without me. someone else has my saturday. i know because it's written in the box where i'd be.

i read it twice. i counted the other names to make sure i wasn't skimming past my own. i wasn't.

probably a mistake. dana does these fast, she's dropped people before and fixed it by morning. i'll ask her monday. i'm already rehearsing how i'll ask, light, like it's funny, like i only half noticed on my way out the door.

i took a picture of it with my phone. i don't know why you take a picture of a thing you're sure is nothing. then i put my apron back on and went to finish the floor. the mop water in the bucket had already gone cold.