Day After Day — A Short Story

Celine’s day was the same, come rain or shine. It helped that she never really knew what the weather was, but that was beside the point. As soon as she got her heart to stop palpitating after her alarm clock woke her up, she got up, brushed her hair, cleaned her teeth, got dressed nicely, just in case she met somebody new or got hit by a car, and then sat in her living room. She managed to ignore the postman’s knocking by keeping her curtains closed, despite the worry that bubbled up in her chest like a toxic chemical reaction - and then kept on sitting there, safe, until it got dark and it was time for bed.

The strange thing was that every day, come rain or shine, despite new batteries in her alarm clock or resetting her phone… the date never changed.

It just happened out of nowhere. Celine was living her life the way she always had, well, at least the way she had since the accident. She’d buried the memories deep inside, like bad seeds, and tried to carry on as though nothing had changed. But slowly, she realised she needed to make a few adjustments. Small ones, at first. Like not going outside. Or avoiding people so no one would judge her, or mock her, or so she wouldn’t humiliate herself by getting hit by a car again. And before she knew it, Celine hadn’t left the house in days. Then weeks. Then a month.

And then, all of a sudden, the date stopped changing. It remained Sunday, the 20th of November. First for a few days, then a few weeks, and before long, Celine found herself reliving the same day over and over for a month straight. At first, she thought it was an anxiety-fueled dream or some kind of trauma response, but eventually she stopped being scared and unnerved by being stuck and instead settled into this new routine.

After a while, it almost felt as though her life had always been like this; but of course, it hadn’t. Just as there had been a life before and after the car accident, there must be a life before and after this ‘same day loop.’ Celine just couldn’t imagine what it would look like - she was now too set in the rhythm to unsettle things by daring to do anything different. Anyway, what was the point?

But it was when she was brushing her teeth, following the same routine as always, that a thought suddenly crossed her mind: should she do something to celebrate this strange 30-day anniversary?’ Not anything silly or terrifying like a party. The very idea of seeing other people made her choke on the white foam gathering in her mouth as her heart tried to jump straight out of her chest via her throat, because all she could see was that concerned crowd around her as she lay on the cold tarmac... She quickly spat the foam out and took a few deep breaths as she tried to steady her heart back into its resting place. No. Nothing like that.

Photo by Iga Palacz on Unsplash

But maybe… maybe she could do something different today. Nothing too grand, just something small, to mark the time she had spent in this strange, repetitive loop.

Celine let the ideas flow through her head, trying her best not focus on any one of them, otherwise her anxiety might go haywire - and a panic attack certainly wouldn’t be the best way to mark this ‘anniversary.’ It just had to be something small…

The idea popped into her head so suddenly it was as if Celine had been struck by lightning. She’d kept her curtains closed for 29 days straight. If she opened them even an inch, then that was progress, and letting in light after so long… that sounded like the perfect way to celebrate to her.

It was certainly strange, walking into her living room and ignoring her feeling of deja vu, resisting going to sit on the sofa, and instead walking towards her thick curtains that were so still it was as if they were holding their breath. Waiting.

Celine waited too.

And then, when it felt like at least an hour had passed, she pulled them open.

The light was so bright it felt as if she was standing in a spotlight. No, not a spotlight – headlights, just that feeling was enough to make her feel sick. She was about to pull them closed again, experiment failed - when someone walked into her view.

It was the postman. A tall man, in his early fifties, maybe? Celine tried desperately to list the things she saw as anxiety hit her like the car did that day – heavy and all-consuming.

Thankfully, given the glass between them, the fact that she wouldn’t need to speak to him helped ease her worries - even if it felt as if she’d swallowed a mouthful of gravel just at the idea of her having to say something to him.

Celine wondered if she’d have time to duck out of view and forget all of this before he looked right at her.

Time seemed to freeze. Oh God. I bet he’s thinking I’m a right weirdo. The worries rushed through her mind, like the worry on that crowd’s face… but in a moment of genius, she decided she might as well just wave at him - that would make him go away, right? she thought.

She was right, thank God. Seeing her wave at him, the postman smiled, offered a small wave of his own, and went on his way, out of her view. Just like that.

As easy as that.

When the anxiety subsided a few days later, Celine was hit with the realisation that her terror aside, it was much easier than she had originally thought it would. The ground didn’t swallow her up. The world didn’t end. He didn’t viciously laugh at her before starting to film her for his TikTok.

So, the next day, she tried something new yet again. Even though her hands were shaking so hard she struggled to turn the handle, she opened the door slightly - just enough so the light didn’t shock her so much that she fainted. Despite every atom in her body begging her to close the door, she managed to keep it open. She had an idea, an experiment, even, and something inside her stronger than even her atoms was telling her that she had to see it through. Even if she did faint.

She waited so long that she could’ve sworn her vision was starting to fade, until she saw the postman appear in her field of waning vision, snapping her back to reality.

‘Hi!’ He said, kindly.

‘Hello,’ Celine said, quietly, her voice so quiet she was sure that he could barely hear it.

He must have thought, because he smiled at her, and then said, ‘Got anything nice planned?’

That almost made her laugh.

‘Oh, no,’ she replied. ‘No - not really.’

‘Same rubbish, different day, eh?’ the postman asked kindly.

‘Something like that,’ Celine answered, careful not to talk as fast as her heart was hammering in her chest. Her nerves got the better of her, however, and she shut her front door before he could reply.

The next day, Celine decided to try again. She figured that not doing anything had kept her in this loop, so maybe doing something different - even something small - might help her, somehow.

Their conversation was the same, but this time she watched as the postman smiled kindly at her, nodded, and went to walk away. Unfortunately, he seemed so distracted when he walked away that he then tripped on the uneven slab that lay just beyond Celine’s window - and, almost in slow-motion, fell to the ground with an unceremonious thump.

He hurried to his feet again, his face beet red both in embarrassment and from the impact.

‘What am I like?’ He asked, before laughing shakily and hurrying away - all the while not looking her in the eye.

Oh, Celine thought. It was as if the world around her shifted slightly, just like that uneven slab being part of an otherwise perfectly flat pavement. In all this time, in all those repeated days… seeing something new, something bigger than just opening the curtains, and those headlights. It was strange. It made her feel like a piece of a puzzle, small and insignificant, but more than that - like she had a part in the world and belonged in the universe, all at once.

Because other than the postman, she was the only person there to see him fall. And the way he reacted afterwards - he didn’t seem to care about her at all, just her reaction to him. Is that it? The realisation hit her like she was the one who had just fallen… people really did care more about other people’s opinions and thoughts of them than anything else. Even if they were hurt!

It all seemed so silly. So obvious. All this time, she was so scared and so anxious about what other people thought of her, like that crowd, when they didn’t care about things like her greasy hair and stained top, because they were all just thinking the same about themselves! Or at the very least, worried about more important things, like someone not getting hurt or dying.

Celine hurried inside and decided she had to sleep. Now. Because this had to be it, right? The reason for every day being the same… it had to be because she needed to learn that.

But the next day, nothing changed. And the next was the same. Until Celine realised what she might need to do next.

It was, of course, a day like any other when Celine cautiously stepped outside for the first time in what felt like years, and for a moment, the bright light that hit her made her feel dazed and unwell. It was different from looking at it through a window - harsher. Thankfully, she was able to pull herself together just as she heard the thud of her postman’s footsteps on the slabs that lined the path in front of her house.

Despite going through the same day over and over so many times already, Celine found it strange, a nice kind of strange, to be experiencing something different after so long. Even if it was absolutely terrifying at the same time.

‘Hi!’ The postman said, offering her a wave. Celine noticed he had something in his teeth, but she also noticed the lines around his smile and was shocked by how little it all bothered her. Is this what it was like for everyone? Did they notice these little things about others, and just not care?

She was stuck pondering that thought and having the realisation settle calmly in her mind like a wave that she almost forgot the reason she was out here in the first place.

She smiled before calling out as loudly as she could, despite her scratchy, dry throat. ‘Morning! Careful there, by the way - that slab is sticking out a bit!’

The postman heard her and noticed just in time to step over the slab and avoid falling.

He turned back to her, both shock and relief on his face. ‘Thanks! You saved me a split lip there!’

‘No worries,’ Celine replied, so full of adrenaline and anxiety that it felt as if she was trying to swallow a mouthful of rocks and they were stuck in her throat.

She had done it, she thought. She’d saved someone else from an embarrassing and painful fate, even if it wasn’t quite as severe as hers. That is, until she saw the postman walk into the road to start on that side of the street, and hear a squeal of wheels on tarmac as a car roared down the street.

As the memories flashed through her mind, the world in front of her seemed to slow to a stop, her legs started pumping, and she was running out into the sun before her mind realised she was even running, outside, and straight towards the car that was still barreling towards a stunned postman.

‘Watch out!’ She shouted, her voice stronger than she ever thought it could be, as she reached out and pushed the postman out of the way of the car, just in time.

But not in time to avoid being hit by it herself. As the pain flooded through her like a tsunami, she watched through fading vision while letters flew around above her like doves freed from a cage.

And strangely, her last thought wasn’t of embarrassment, or anxiety, or regret, but of an apology – for not saving the postman from a split lip after all.

Although it could’ve been worse, Celine thought, as her vision faded into an inky blackness, and she fell asleep.

And then she woke up again. Like nothing at all had happened.

Her muscles ached as if she’d run a marathon, but she moved each limb in turn, and nothing felt broken. Other than what felt like a vivid dream of saving her kind postman from being hit by a car and the aches and pains, everything felt exactly as it was.

Although she could see from her bed that there was no sun trying to peek through. Almost as if it were cloudy…

Almost as if… Celine wouldn’t dare let that thought enter her head. It had been so long that she’d been stuck like this, she wouldn’t dare jinx it.

She had no idea why she didn’t grab her phone to check - it must’ve been the adrenaline.

‘Hi!’ She said, quickly, to the postman, who flashed that familiar smile at her in response. ‘Uh, what day is it today? Sunday?’ She had to resist adding ‘again.’

The postman shook his head, still smiling. ‘Nope! It’s Monday - a brand-new week!’

‘Nope’ suddenly became Celine’s favourite word in the entire world. She felt herself just standing there, blinking, as that word, and the rest, slowly sank in. Somehow, she had made it through that haze of day after day being the same and made it through the other side. Even if it meant having been technically hit by a car twice.

She’d done it.

‘Wow, I - thanks!’ She said, suddenly aware that she was grinning so wide that her cheeks started to hurt.

‘No problem,’ the postman replied, before looking at her a little closer and saying, ‘Are you alright?’

A familiar anxiety appeared in Celine’s chest, heavy, as if she’d swallowed a mouthful of rocks - again.

But after all this time, she helped him and looked ridiculous, and he didn’t care… he only cared what she thought, and she was so happy that was her only thought at all. After a moment, she was able to will the anxiety away and ignore it. Finally.

‘Yeah, I’m good, thanks,’ Celine said, smiling kindly at him. ‘It’s just one of those days.’

‘Same rubbish, different day, eh?’ The postman said, with his familiar smile.

Celine nodded - he had no idea how right he was. But she couldn’t just stand there and ponder this - she had to warn him, quickly, about the uneven slab, and then the car, and watched as it barreled down the road and came to a stop, hitting no one, as the driver hurried out the car, shouting that his wife was in labour and he needed to get her ton hospital.

Celine and the postman wished them both luck before she headed back inside to call the council to see if they’d be able to get that slab fixed, and to order her neighbour a new baby gift online. She had no idea they were even expecting.

The days flew by after that, but Celine still had no clue why it all happened. Maybe she’d figure it out later - it didn’t matter right now. Celine was a determined woman.

Every day was a new day, finally, and she didn’t have time for thinking and worrying and caring so much, or at least paying as much attention to her anxiety as she had over those past 29 days. She had, as the postman so aptly said, rubbish to do right now, before it was a new day. Because before she knew it, it would be another new day - and Celine was determined to appreciate them again.