June 12th, 2020

Sundays by Jessica Kim

Sundays aren’t meant to be special but I still fumble for my grey turtleneck and grab the stale waffles that had been left from Saturday’s breakfast. Straightening the tangles in my hair while bolting out the door, I briskly cross a few junctions and barely avoids running into a drunk banker who gets out of a yellow cab. Don’t ask me how I know it’s a banker. On Sundays, I just do.

I linger outside a closed cafe, somewhat hysterical about reaching four minutes too early. My eyebrows furrow as I pocket glances out of my cracked wristwatch, uncontrollably pacing back and forth. I yank open the glass door and step into the vacant but warm cafe. It smells like farewell.

Sundays aren’t meant to be special but I contemplate the new promotional drink for longer than I was supposed to. I don’t notice the man who orders a cherry blossom latte for $6.99 and asks for an extra serving of whipped cream. He suddenly tosses me a leather wallet with a missing studded bead and I barely catch it.

“I thought you might need this on Sunday.”

I gingerly peer into my empty handbag. I snatch the wallet from his palms and shove it into my bag.

I forgot to see his face.

Sundays really aren’t meant to be special.

Jessica Kim is a high school writer whose works appear in The Daphne Review, TeenInk, and The Heritage Review amongst others. She enjoys long plane rides and large servings of written work. Jessica is diagnosed with a perennial bout of writer’s block and only experiences fleeting moments of inspiration. Her piece “Sundays” was also inspired by one of those inexplicable moments.