Truth in the Wash

Robert Quick

Where the -@!# did my muse go?

Writer, dreamer, knight, shackled by entertainment . . . and people.

“Not quite evil mother-in-law material but not fun either, I imagine.” I switched back to a happier subject. “When's your next performance, exactly?”

“Next Wednesday—a week from tomorrow.”

I blinked at the assertion that tomorrow was Wednesday. Such a simple statement to make me question my own reality. I had woken up this morning and lived through an entire day believing that today was Thursday. For a brief second, I saw double as I tried to line up what I thought to what she said. Yesterday had surely been Wednesday. I remembered heading to the farmer's market at Sade Square. One reality faded away like an afterimage in a swirl of visual snow as I became absolutely sure that today was Thursday. Teeny had spoken with such cheerful certainty that I genuinely felt bad for correcting her but I couldn't let a friend follow her Tuesday routine on a Thursday. She might miss a bus or fail to show at an appointment. Chalking it up to her working too much, I said, “Tomorrow's Friday, dear, yesterday was Wednesday.”

Comments (1 so far!)



I think everyone can relate to those moments. And none more disappointing to a Thursday feeling like Friday.

  • #4302 Posted 3 years ago
  • 0

Inspired by (sequel to):

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