Sunday Eats People

With a dreamy movement, she takes sleep off her face. The light lazily sparkles through the apple tree leaves, right by her room window. Unending time of Sunday will soon enough wipe out everything. She might as well drink some coffee, before she disappears also.

Time moves differently on Sunday. The hours suddenly grow, like balloons full of warm air, they’re piling in her room. On Sunday, even she becomes Alice in Wonderland and turns her back to the rest of the world. The noise of boiled water breaks her thoughts and she goes to the heated range, mixes coffee and water with metal spoon, turns off the range and walks to her bed with sleepy steps.

Afternoon’s light quietly whispers to the white walls. Wrinkled sheet lies on empty bed. She approaches the window, sits nearby and calmly sips coffee. The heat tickles her fingers. Today is the time for lost worlds, old castles and undiscovered secrets, she thought. Short ray of light falls down on a near bookshelf and she saw one book that hadn’t been open for ages: Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire.

-That’s it! -she shouted, while found an accomplice in drowning Sunday’s boredom and she opened the book in the middle, not even looking where.

It doesn’t matter where one starts to read today, she thought, today is Sunday, a day of lost time. Moments should not be wasted, with not even a blink of an eye you will hear the alarm clock buzzing for Monday. So on Sunday’s she always opens the books in the middle and lets herself down into the currents of writer’s time. The fingers glide down the odorous paper, the characters are laughing, are scared or even crying. She runs with them down the hills of Hogwarts, sits with them in Hagrid’s cottage, discovers mysteries of Harry’s dreams.

The pages are turning voraciously, one can’t escape the Sunday’s reading swirls so easily. Time is closed in a circle, it doesn’t matter what time it is. One sip of a coffee, two, three. She will know what part of the day it is when all the sparkles of daylight disappear and when she hears front doors creak. Then, she will have to break this magical circle of time, it is then that Alice leaves her Wonderland and drinks the last sips of coffee. So, for now, she still dives in the Black lake of Hogwarts, right next to Harry.

The front doors creak. He came back earlier.

With the bang of the doors, all the contours of Hogwarts hills and lakes shattered. Images disappeared. She looked up – still inside of the same white walls. Soon enough, it’s Monday.

-What did you do today? -he asks her quietly. -I came back earlier.

-I know, I can see that. -more quietly, she answered, it’s hard to talk to those who interrupt Sunday’s reading.

-Didn’t do anything.

Afternoon’s light is now drowned by the vibrant images of television. In a dark room filled with sounds of an action movie, they discuss who will pay the bills tomorrow.

She can do it, ti doesn’t matter. In just six days, Sunday will come again and the magical circle of time with it. Sunday eats people, she thought, watching how both of them sink into the darkness of the Sunday’s unknown movie.

But there is no time she would likeĀ  to belong more.

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