Saturday doesn't have a night.

Saturday doesn’t have a night.

It only has a daylight. No dusk, no dawn, just the sun shines and sparks the warm beam for the rest of the day.

At least, that’s what I’m hoping for.

Your hate towards the way of spending the weekend alone still carved deeply in my mind. Especially at the Saturday night, you were the one who’s super excited for this and that, doing every activity on the neatly written to-do-list at the white board in our living room.

We had the loudest laughs while we were cooking the special dinner together. We spelled the quirkiest answers we could come out with in every MBTI questions that passed through your black leather-covered iPad. We even joked the dirtiest pick-up line when doing the weekly laundry, with your silly acting as a random guy from the smut movie we’ve watched.

Although, there were no shivers eventually comes through my bone at that time. Either the tears, loneliness was a scary myth we both hate and curse.

Right now, the ruth hugs me with an unknown fond of my knowledge. It seems knitted on me tightly, slowly trying to make me into an ignorant individual who fails to realize the most important aspect in my own damn life.

My fingers link one to another, wishing to get rid of the cold breeze that nowhere to be found, yet no place to shelter as far as the eye can see.

And yes, the lost of a Saturday night is still what I’m hoping for. Cause darling, please tell me; what on earth exactly comes after love?