FRIDAY evenings always arrived with a different kind of warmth.
There was something about the air on Fridays, it always was lighter, almost celebratory. Even the house seemed to breathe easier. The week loosened its grip, and laughter came quicker.
Wendy noticed it first when she heard the honking of the car earlier than usual.
She had just finished rinsing the last plate from lunch when the familiar voices of the twins echoed from outside.
“That is too early,” she murmured, wiping her hands on a kitchen towel.
Fridays.
Of course.
The boys and even Wendy herself closed earlier on Fridays, but today she had intentionally returned home ahead of time. She wasn’t sure why she had hurried, perhaps she had simply wanted the quiet before the storm of pre-teenage energy.
Yet here they were
