September 1st, not warm enough for summer, not cold enough for fall, it's a hesitant, unsure day just like her.
She woke up not knowing which day of the week it is. Why would she? Every week is seven Sundays for her, maybe for others it is seven Saturdays.
What if there are 7 types of people? Each one defined by his X-day. What if there are combinations? !"There must be an infinity of them!", she thought, "Should I count them?".
She knew she was too lazy to do that, or maybe too clever to lose some precious neurons to do that. "Yeah, Whatever!" , she said while trying to force herself out of bed.
She thought twice and then she expanded her body as wide as she could, hoping she'd hear the cracking of her bones, it was somehow a satisfying sound to her.
"Tomorrow I'll get up early".
She turned on her back, gazed into the wall with curious big eyes and commanded herself: "You'll add some Mondays and Saturdays to your week from now on!"
"Every meal needs some heat to be cooked, that's for a start. And every meal needs some spices. I love spices, mixed, colorful, diverse spices. God! I'm hungry."
"Should I make some pancakes?" "Maybe tomorrow when i'll wake up early".
Suddenly, a feeling of regret, sadness and loneliness reigned her comfortable space, her room. She felt confused. Was she happy or sad? .
Is it really comfort what she's feeling in her bed or was it the fear of fear? .
Unsure as always on this Sunday-like September 1st, she gathered all her cracked bones and got up, hoping that tomorrow she'll wake up early.