The wall calendar was a grid of tiny boxes, but Sunday was the one that didn't have walls. It bled into the Saturday before it and the Monday after it, acting as a buffer zone. Mira enjoyed spending her Sundays in the park, watching the children play. To them, there was no "week," only "now." She tried to learn from them. She tried to forget that tomorrow she would be a cog in a machine again. But as the shadows of the trees grew long, she realized that Sunday’s beauty came from its expiration date. It was a sunset that lasted twenty-four hours, beautiful precisely because it was paving the way for a brand-new dawn.