Rainy Days and Tuesdays
Note:
RAINY DAYS AND TUESDAYS
I hate rainy days.
Shelley turned that phrase over and over in her head, sighing as she tapped warm fingers on the fogged over glass of the window. What the hell, it wasn't just rainy days. Today was a Tuesday too, and all her life she had been undecided which one she hated more: rainy days or Tuesdays.
Looks like the option would be both equally, because today was a double-whammy and it was the shittiest she had felt in a long time.
She never understood why Tuesdays exist. There's Monday, the dreaded start of the week, there's Wednesday, the middle of the week, there's Thursday, the eve of T.G.I.F.and then Friday, T.G.I.F itself. Saturday and Sunday were in a different category all together, filed under "Good Days" in her brain, snuggled together cozily with 'Birthdays', 'Public Holidays' and 'Vacations'.
Her point was that all the days of the week had their own purposes, be it good or bad, save for Tuesday. It was just there, a lump of twenty four hours with the sole purpose (debatable!) of being there to be gotten over. What kind of purpose was that? Was it even a purpose at all?
Tuesdays should be ashamed of themselves.
And I am a crazy nutter a few almonds short of a fruit cake, Shelley snorted as she traced the path taken by an errant droplet of rain down the other side of the window. Just listen to myself go. Arguing about the days of the week with the voices in my head. Bravo, Shelley. You win a padded room in Bedlam.
The thing was, she was bored.
School was out, there was no such thing as 'holiday homework in university, her friends kept reminiscing the past, her parents would think her insane and a big baby if she were to stick to them twenty-four seven (though she did miss them while she was away at school, and everything just felt duller because he wasn't around-
Don't go there, you stupid girl. That way lies nothing but heartache and madness.
-because of that stupid war. She sighed and gave herself a hearty slap on the forehead, ignoring the curious stares that the noise generated from the other patrons of the café. She wasn't concerned if people thought she was loony in the head; she had deliberately driven to the next town just so that she could breathe without it being reported back to her family and close friends.
That's the shitty thing about small towns, she grimaced sourly while staring out of the window. everyone knows everyone, and the concern that goes all around gets suffocating sometimes.
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