Monday, Monday–can’t trust that day. In Fernando Durán Ayanegui’s story “Monday,” the day of the week is not necessarily relevant. The story simply takes place on a normal day that is just like any other: Adán goes to work at the garage, the “dirty shed that rose beneath a rusty old zinc roof on a dusty plot of land cruelly discolored by the constant drip of motor oil.” And from his position in the garage where he works on an old, dilapidated Ford, he watches his wife walk by with Mario Solano. It is not the first time that Adán has witnessed this precursor to his wife’s infidelity, but it is the first day that he decides to do something about it.
The story is pervaded by imagery of the heat of the day, as “Suspended between the overheated blue sky and the earth’s cover of sweaty human moss, buzzards slithered in tight flocks.” In fact, it is the constant heat that has always stopped Adán from taking action before, but on this Monday, he matches the situation with his own heat.
Fernando Durán Ayanegui is the author of many works of fiction, such as Cuentos para Laura, Cuando desaparecieron los topos, and Opus 13 para cimarrona. He is native to Alajuela, where this story takes place.
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