The Shop That Sold Yesterday

The shopkeeper asked if she wanted to buy another day. Nell looked at the jar for The Last Good Tuesday and shook her head.

"I thought he needed an apology," she said. "Perhaps I did."

Outside, the laundrette hummed. The shop window was already becoming brick. Nell could remember the holiday, but not the sunset she had traded. The loss was small and precise.

She took out her phone and called her sister. They had been postponing a proper conversation for months. When her sister answered, Nell did not begin with anything important. She asked what she was cooking.

They talked until the shops closed. On her way home, Nell stopped beneath an ordinary evening sky. She watched its colors without trying to keep them. Tomorrow could hold its own memories.