Tuesday, Wednesday


One night at the waiting shed, a rare yet extraordinary conversation about love took place between the two days of the week.
“Why do you always stand on the same spot?” asked Tuesday.
“Because this is where she once stood, I watched her from that side while she waited for her ride. I feel closer to her just by standing here,” answered Wednesday.
“It must be hard just watching her.”
“Tormenting. I remember that night I wanted to ask her if we could share a ride since we’re going the same way. But before I could summon the courage she was already gone. I stood there beating myself up for not asking.”
The following week, Tuesday saw Wednesday begging for this particular seat at the park.
“You always fight for that seat it’s not even a good spot to sit on. Kids run around a lot in this area that you can’t concentrate on your reading. What’s so special about that old bench?” Tuesday inquired, intrigued by the story behind the old bench
“She always took this seat everytime she comes here. She loves children and she loves watching them run around in the park even if it means having to put down her favorite book,” Wednesday explained with satisfaction in his eyes as he watched the children chase each other.
“Let me guess, you feel closer to her by sitting there.”
“No. This brings me closer to reality. The seat is empty. She’s gone.”
The pals met up again at the museum. While inside, Tuesday noticed his friend standing on particular spot with his eyes closed as if he was trying to picture something in his mind.
“What are you doing standing there?” Tuesday tapped Wednesday on the back distracting his concentration.
“Why do you ask so many questions?” Wednesday walked away and moved to the next painting, irritated with his friend’s interrogations.
Tuesday walked behind him and said, “Because you’re acting so weir. You seem lost everytime.”
“How about I treat you for lunch maybe that will shut you.”
But the lunch treat didn’t shush Tuesday. “You don’t need to tell me I know the answer,” he said. “It’s where you first saw her.”
“How’d you know?” Wednesday asked in astonishment.
“I was there. It was Tuesday night.” Tuesday finally shushed, but instead of feeling at peace Wednesday felt sorry for his friend. “I admire you, Wednesday. You had the courage to speak. I kept mum.”
“You’re responsible for it. What was suppressed yesterday exploded today. What you failed to say during your day I said during my day. Any regrets?”
“None. If there’s one thing I learned from not telling her it’s that you don’t really need to say anything to convince yourself you’re in love with the person. You?”
“Well, I regret that I didn’t tell her sooner. Maybe, just maybe, if I told her sooner she wouldn’t have married yet. Maybe she would want to get to know me and when she did maybe she would choose me.”
“You really miss her, do you?
“I do. I don’t even need to ask you.”
“Every Tuesday.”
“Every Wednesday. Wednesday is a Beautiful day. I get excited everytime this day comes. It’s the day of the week I always look forward to with hopes of seeing her again.
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