And All The Birds Were Tinted Red

"You pose a very one sided argument, Dana." I screached from one end of the dining room table, setting my cup of tea on it's respectable saucer, and sliding the bound papers across the floor to Dana's feet. Closing my eyes, I waited silently for Dana's heady and indeed metaphorical volcano to erupt upon me like the crushing of a thousand old bottles in the recycling plant near by.

"Really?-" She pouted, putting her hand to her lips sarcastically, and then muttering some sort of mental health related insult. "Indeed..." I replied half heartedly, looking away before sipping my tae again; It was a dreary November morning and breakfast with Dana was no different than any other day, it ws just as dreary as the weather, perhaps more. But I was sure something about this particular wednesday was different, something about the clouds told me so.. Even the whispered voices in my head were sure of it.. And that meant I was too.

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"Good morning Master Sie!" Called a servent of the household as she gallevanted towards me "Oh, hello.-" I answered drearally, looking at my pocketwatch. "Worried about Miss Wednesday again, sir?" the girl asked, a thoughtful smile on her face. "No, no. What would make you think that?"I enquired, glancing around as if to make sure my thoughts were not perading the gardens. "Well, no direspect to you sir but, we know how fond of Miss Wednesday you are and since it's a big day for her today.. I just thought..-" She paused mumbling slightly. "Right you were just thinking logically, not a problem." I assured her, stumbling upon a smile, faked or otherwise I employed it as I would any other expression; Carefully. She merely smiled back at me and continued weeding her section of the garden.

"Phew," I thought, glad to be getting away from all of the enquiring glances the household employees had to offer. Of course, it was true, I was somewhat worried about Wednesday, or Sue as I called her; it was interestingly ironic that Wednesday the 12th was to be her first trip out into the gardenss after so long kept inside for fear that she would become ill. But I was more worried about my neglectful behavior towards her over the previous few weeks. Before I began to comsume myself in my writing I had visited her room everyday, sometimes just to sit in silence with her and other times to read poetry to her. I hadn't seen her in three weeks and the thought that she would be mad with me ripped at my insides like a rabit dog. She was and continued to be, my writing inspiration.

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i was soon sna[[ed and pulled away from my thoughts as I reached the door to the sidehouse where Wednesday had been living for the past ten weeks, before then I had only contacted her through written letters as she lived very far away. Back then I only imagined her voice as I read her letters, they were like poetic roses which had shot at me with their surprisingly heart warming thorns.

I opened the door slowly, still half expecting to hear her squeel my name and fling herself at me as she and I had so many times dreamt in our letters.