Wednesday.

A Story by Ashtaroth

A short love story about a man and his memories.

It's 8:24pm on a Wednesday. The sky is pure blue with a perfect streak of pink running straight across, parallel to the horizon. It's almost as beautiful as Her, he thinks. Cicadas and crickets fill the silence of the park. At the top of the hill, between the two tallest trees, it's almost impossible to hear the cars and noise below. The buzzing of the nearby insects finds its way into his mind, drowning out all other noise, becoming the silent static setting for his mind to take any form it wishes.

He sits cross-legged on the grass, his shoes resting silently beside him. He does not care that his work pants and brand new socks are becoming stained with green, or that when he puts his shoes back on they will likely be filled with ants. His loosened tie and untucked shirt are unimportant. His schedule, thrown off by the impromptu park visit, will have to be amended tomorrow. He should be home already, reheating the leftover spaghetti from dinner with his parents on Sunday night, a weekly tradition. He will have to cut out his one hour of reading time before bed tomorrow, use it to catch up on the extra work he promised to take home for tonight. It can wait. Just this once, work can wait. Tonight he wants to relax. He wants to think, to unwind and rewind, travel far back into his memories to when She was still with him. He wants to become lost in memories of Her, of shy glances across cubicles and texts during office hours and coffee breaks that weren't really coffee breaks, all so they could spend just a few moments more together.

They would wait impatiently for a chance to talk, to smile, to communicate somehow. For them, every interaction was something precious, not to be wasted. Every night he thought about her as he slowly fell asleep, and every morning he woke up smiling. He would spent twenty minutes choosing his clothing every morning, sometimes trying on ten different shirts before deciding on something he thought she would like. For the first time in years he enjoyed going to work; he spent hours of his off days wishing it were Monday again, just so he could see her again. He hoped she felt the same.

The truth was, she loved him. She missed him every night, just as he did, and every morning she went through a similar routine as she chose necklaces and matched makeup. She loved him, and that was why it hurt so much. That was why it hurt when her husband would come home drunk, demanding she wait on him hand and foot. That was why her stiffness in bed, her lack of emotion, her unwillingness to fight back, only added to the growing weight that was slowly crushing her heart. And when she came into work with a bruise on her wrist, hidden under a thick emerald-colored bracelet the same shade of her eyes, it hurt the most. It hurt because, somehow, he knew. She could see it in him, in the way looked at her, the way he sighed, the way he clenched his fists at his desk and muttered under his breath, the way he reached out to her before catching himself and withdrawing. And that was when she felt that she could no longer take it, when she thought that maybe, just maybe, that weight was real, and one day her heart would burst, leaving an empty crater in her chest, her blood pouring down and staining her new low-cut blouse that she was only supposed to wear at home but sneaked into work wearing it anyway, and drip down, down her legs, making a pool on the floor, as bewildered coworkers gathered around her finally loose body wondering whatever could have happened, and...

One day, she didn't show up to work. He was worried, but didn't voice his concern. They had to keep things a secret, after all. He didn't want her to get into any kind of trouble. So he kept his mouth shut, kept on working, and hoped she would be there tomorrow. But tomorrow soon came, and she wasn't there. He heard murmurs in other cubicles, but wasn't focused enough to decipher them. Perhaps he should have.

On the third day, he finally asked about her. He approached a coworker casually, brought her up slowly in conversation, I wonder what happened, he asked, why hasn't she shown up? The office drone gave him a concerned look, tilted his head to the side slightly. Oh, I thought you knew, he said. She was found dead in her home Wednesday night, her head caved in with something heavy. The investigation was technically ongoing, but everyone suspected her husband, who was known to be violent. Oh, he said. I didn't know.

And that was it. He slowly walked back to his desk, seemingly emotionless when in fact there was a storm, a hurricane, swirling viciously inside his heart, threatening to burst out through his mouth carrying his insides with it. Twenty minutes later he threw up into the wastebasket beside his desk. His supervisor allowed him to leave early on the stipulation he come into work early tomorrow, but he called in sick for the next two days. By then the case had been closed, and more information had come to light. It seems that some texts were found on the victim's phone, evidence of an affair. It seems her husband discovered them and flew into a rage. They had an argument and got carried away, she was pushed, lost her balance, and then it was over. He was told all this by a friend on Saturday morning. His memories after that were a blur, a half-remembered mix of tears and booze and vomit and sorrow.

He came to work on Monday morning looking tired, but presentable. He no longer reeked of alcohol, his lunch no longer threatened to come up. His tears no longer threatened to stain his work shirt. The world moved on, and business continued. He didn't smile at work anymore.

… It's 9:15pm on a Wednesday. The sky's pure blue shade has darkened. The perfect streak of pink has faded into a vaguely visible highlight of the disappearing sky. Cicadas and crickets fill the silence of the park. He is alone.

© 2013 Ashtaroth

Author's Note

My first short story that I managed to finish, and my first attempt at writing something other than poetry in a while. Please be critical, I could use the help!