Thursday is becoming a dark day of the week, a time for black anniversaries. Last week I had my famous hysteria fit on the bus, in mark itself of Thursdays 7th and 21st of July. But today is also one week since we last spoke, for the last time. Looking at my diary, I can see that our first and last anniversary of meeting fell on a Thursday too. Curiously enough however, I notice that the end of the world is on a Sunday. Well, I never saw that one coming. I should write that into my last novel quick.

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