Robert pressed the phone to his ear and began to bend the paperclip which he had just straightened back into a vaguely paper-clippish form. It seemed to him that the phone on the other end had rung entirely too many times. The old man must not have an answering machine, Robert thought, trying to get his paperclip to stay bent at the correct angle with very little success. Finally, just as he was about to hang up, there was a click on the other end.

“Hello?” said a voice cheerfully, conveying the air of a man without a single care in the world with such subtlety that Robert barely detected it. This inflection was, however, enough to give Robert the subconscious impression that he was not speaking to the quiet, sunken centogenarian known as Harris Miller.

“Hello, may I speak with Harris?”

“Speaking.”

“Oh, Mr. Miller. I wasn’t quite expecting you to answer the phone, in your state.”

“My state?”

“I assumed your illness must be quite grave. You haven’t been to work in five days, and since no medical claim has been filed yet I was instructed to call to confirm the nature of your illness.”

“Ah well you shouldn’t assume things like that. Next time I’m fifteen minutes late you gonna throw a funeral for me?”

“Am I to gather, then, that you aren’t ill at all?”

“Never felt better.”

“Then may I ask why you’ve been missing so much work?”

“I was about to ask you the very same question.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“When I came in Monday morning, the office was totally deserted. Same thing on Tuesday. So once Wednesday rolled around, I didn’t even bother coming in.”

“There must be some kind of mistake. Monday and Tuesday were both full working days. Are you certain you came to the right floor?”

“I’ve been there every day for twenty eight years, I should know. Wasn’t a soul there.”

“I can’t fathom why not, I was here yesterday along with everyone else, and the day before.”

“I haven’t said a word about yesterday, can you testify to the whereabouts of the office on Monday and Tuesday?”

“. . .I’m not following.”

“I’m leading just fine. Yesterday and Wednesday are not in question, I’m talking about Monday and Tuesday.”

“But yesterday was Tuesday.”

“Now how does that figure, with today being Friday?”

“It’s Wednesday.”

“Nonsense.”

“Are you feeling alright, Mr. Miller?”

“As I said, I’ve never felt better in my life.”

“Why on earth would you think today is Friday?”

“It is Friday.” There was a pause on the line. “I used to live as you do, Mr. Yearing. Slave to my calendar and my schedule. But a week ago, what you may call Wednesday, I awoke with the distinct feeling that it was Friday. I’m sure you’ve shared this feeling, Mr. Yearing, every human being has felt it at certain times. What’s strange is that, when you have this feeling, everyone around you seems to feel the same way. If you tell someone else on Tuesday that today feels like a Thursday, they will almost invariably agree with you. So, Mr. Yearing, I must assert that last Wednesday you felt as if it were Friday as well.”

“I. . . I can’t seem to recall- -“

“Of course you did. Everyone did. But you all pushed that feeling inside and forgot it, and instead of trusting your gut you trusted that piece of paper hanging on your wall or on your desk, headed by an inspirational photo or a Dilbert cartoon. And I did too, at first. I went through my day like I would any Wednesday. Then on my way home, I still couldn’t escape that internal voice telling me that it was Friday. At that moment, I began to think. What is a day? A day is what we say it is. The day names are meaningless, completely arbitrary. So if everyone has the same feeling, that it’s Friday, then why are we bound to go by the dictates of a tiny paper tyrant? When I got home, I was fully convinced that it was Friday, and when I woke up the next morning, sure enough, it was Saturday. It was the most Saturday of days I have ever experienced.”

“. . .Are you certain that you’re quite alright?”

“Of course.”

“We have a psychologist here, and you can see her for free. . . it’s all confidential, and won’t affect- -“

“A week ago, I might have needed it. At the moment, I am right as rain.”

“Okay then. But can I expect you at work tomorrow?”

“On Saturday?”

“Yes, we’re all coming in Saturday to play a little catchup. Sunday too. If this is any inconvenience to you, we’d be glad to give you Monday and Tuesday off instead.”

“Sure thing. I’ll bring the donuts.”