The house was all wrong for them. The toilets too high, the beds too short, the walls too smooth, the windows too wide. Yet they were forced to live in that house, or else live on the street.
Pablo could not drink. Even though he was given water, it was not the drink he sought. Instead of drinking, he slept all day.
Roxy could not sleep. Even though she rested in the bed, she should always drift out. Instead of sleeping, she ran all night.
Juarez could not walk. Even though his feet and legs worked perfectly well, he fell each time he tried to move about the house. Instead of walking, he ate constantly.
Francine could not eat. Even though she had food available, there was always someone watching. Instead of eating, she drank until there was nothing left to drink.
It was all the house's fault, too. It was all wrong for them.
It was Sunday—not a day, but rather a gap between two other days. I may be outside of time, but Sunday often seems to be as well. Perhaps it is because the gods have forgotten us, or because we have forgotten them. The Sun still rises, but his namesake is losing touch with reality. Soon Sunday will be mine, and the week will be shorter than it is now.
Strangely, Moonday doesn't have this problem. It stands as a rock-steady bulkhead against the chaos of time. But the Moon isn't around as often as it once was, only showing her full face a few days each month. Yet she remains while the Sun wanes. Ironic.
Satrunday isn't slipping into my domain either, but for a different reason. Saturn would have my head if she thought I had any hold on her namesake. I stay away from it, not tempting such an ending. I must be satisfied with Sunday. For now.
Mother says that when I start talking I never know when to stop. I can't imagine why she would think that, I merely keep going until I run out of things to say - like yesterday at Ashley's birthday party, we were talking about the cute guy in Algebra class, but I actually knew what his name was (Jacob) and that he was actually in the chess club (how could a nerd be cute?!) and that he worked part time at the grocery store on Saccharine Street, and that his little sister is going to be coming to the school next year - but Mother didn't want to hear about it, she just smiled and nodded in that way parents do when they think they know better than you, but they never do, so I had to call Amber about the whole situation - Amber's mom lets her cook meals all the time, I think it's great that Amber knows how to cook, I've never gotten the hang of not burning things - and I talked to Amber about Jacob and how Mother didn't want to hear about Ashley's birthday party and how grownups never listen to the kids, but then Amber had to go because she had to cook dinner for her mom (isn't it cool that Amber can cook?) but I didn't know what to do after that so I asked Mother what she should do, but like a parent she said I should do my homework - as if, on a Friday - so I called up Susan to see if she wanted to go to the mall since Susan can drive and I can't because Father doesn't want me on the road, but Susan didn't answer her phone because apparently she was on a date with her boyfriend darn I wish I had a boyfriend to go on dates with anyway so after that I decided to waste time doing homework since I had nothing better to do but then you showed up and here we are.
During my holidays from school, I was allowed to stay in bed until long after my father left for work. It was luxurious to sleep in, for once, and I would often sleep most of the day away. I once even slept until my father came home from work, but he wasn't particularly happy about that.
"I know you're on vacation, Suzi, but if you sleep all day you'll ruin your appetite, get your internal clock all messed up, and never get to spend time with your friends. At least try to get up before noon!"
Typical parent, always concerned about the future. I only care about the now. And right now, I'm quite enjoying the extra rest.
I have a photo of a man whose name I don't know. I have a ring from a man I've never met. I gave a kiss to a man I'll never see. I know a word that that man will never say.
He broke my heart, and he could cease to exist, for all I care.
Jane's husband, Martin, works for the fire department. He risks his life every day to save strangers, often from their own folly. He never gets remembered, and rarely gets thanked. He likes it that way.
The last time someone thanked him, he became attached. He fell in love. He married, had a kid, divorced, and died a little inside. He risked his life so save her, and his heart for her to save him, but she failed. She was no fireman, like him.
I don't know how Martin and Jane met, but it wasn't anywhere near a fire, I know that much. They love each other totally, and Martin doesn't want to fail her like his first love failed him. So it's better that people see him, and then forget him. He can't get attached.
He had no body hair. It seems his species had evolved past such a need long ago. That, or he liked to swim competitively and wanted to shave of some of the drag. But probably his species had evolved past a need for body hair.
I don't know where they found him, and I don't know where he's from. They'll probably wipe my memory after the investigation, which is why I'm recording this now. The world needs to know that we are not alone in the universe.
He has no mouth, but his cloven feet seem adapted to absorb liquids, either directly or by crushing it out of vegetation (or perhaps the blood from an animal?). He has two eyes on stalks which allow him 270 degrees of vision, indicating a prey species in their history...
I read about it in the paper, in the subway, on my way to work. I was bombarded by advertisements, e-mails, and magazines. I overheard people talking about it, and tried to avoid getting into a discussion about it with others.
It's impossible to get away from the sad truth: I need a new cell phone.
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