Nothing happened on Wednesday.
Nothing happened on Thursday either.
Ah, but Tuesday was so different. Ignoring you at the hotel breakfast buffet, the tense client meetings, the silent coffee breaks, the contract signatures, the countless handshakes and over-familiar hugs, the pop of corks, the exciting chatter of future plans, the secret embrace in the car park, and the long drive home.
Then nothing.
Nothing this weekend.
And nothing, for the rest of my death.
Published: Paragraph Planet.
