The second sunny day of summer doesn't warm my body like the first.
It doesn't convince me to get out of bed, to brush my hair, to put on my shoes.
The second day only feels like having the flu and a broken heart.
Tuesday feels like the middle of nowhere.
Like being chased by my own tail.
Like following the summer sun as it sets behind the mountains and comes back up the other side.
Tuesday feels like every day ten times over.
The second snow of winter doesn't smell of romance like the first.
It feels like dread and wet feet and a sore throat.
Like dirty hands and no sink.
The second snow of winter feels like the second sunny day of summer might never come.
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