Piper tells me I should go out this weekend.

It’s one-thirty in the morning.

“What’s the point?” I say “It’s already Sunday.”

“Nuh uh.” she says.

I check my clock. It’s Saturday. A miracle. I gained a day. Why was the post-office closed? Did my letters get picked up? Am I going to get the benefits? Am I going to have to look for jobs? Will that be my job, for a hundred and ninety two dollars a week?

“I know what I will do.” I say “There is a literary event at the library. I thought it was today, which is technically yesterday, but it turns out that it is tomorrow, which is technically today.”

“I forget how far ahead you are.” she says.

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