Half Of My Life

 

Wait. I have to clean it up before it spills on the floor. Tomorrow is Tuesday, and Sunday night is anxiety-inducing fortnights away. Only my vision plays tricks on my mind, using my etherized heart as a prop.

There must be a way out of this room. How do I skip Saturdays so I never know what it is like to sit at a park and do nothing?

 

Fior di Luna