I'll See You On Thursday

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Just like every single day, Mr. Peterson woke up with the sound of his alarm clock going off and blasting the sound of old pop music in his ears.

A hand reached out and pressed the top button repeatedly until the device finally stopped its loud music.

It took more than one and a half minute for the elder man to finally get out of bed and when he did, it was with a grunt.

He first walked to his desk, just like he did every morning, and looked at the calendar taped to the wall. It was already Thursday, the third of January so far.

Mr. Peterson sighed heavily which, as a result, made him cough roughly through his dry throat. The man then walked over to the bathroom and stood in front of the mirror.

He could still see traces of his younger self in the gray-haired, wrinkle-faced and almost bald now man that was his reflection.

Forty years ago, he would have sung as he put toothpaste on his toothbrush but he didn't do that, not for a while now.

He brushed his teeth with the same excitement he'd had to get out of bed and once he was done, went back to his room, to his closet.

He took out the same grey suit he'd worn for years and the same dark blue handkerchief, with the same black derby hat he'd taken from the same hatbox on top of the right shelf.

He got dressed with the numerous items that made him look fancier than he'd been in his stripped pajamas and climbed down the stairs to get to the kitchen.

On the way to the kitchen, right on the walls of the white corridor stood pictures, mostly just frames with a younger Mr. Peterson on them and some had a very pretty woman next to him as well.

On every photo they were both smiling, and they looked beautiful, especially on that one picture where he was wearing a tuxedo and she had on a long white dress...

Mr. Peterson continued toward the kitchen and went through a few cupboards, only to finally settle on coffee, just like he did every morning.
He made his coffee, sipped it for almost half an hour alone in this big kitchen at his little blue round table and put the cup in the sink once he was done.

He went for the door and locked it behind him, finally putting on his hat once he was outside.
He walked out of his yard, knowing the grass has been in need of a mowing for a long time now, but never acting on it.

He passed Mrs. James who was quietly wetting her flowers in her garden, wearing the pink floral hat she always had on when she was gardening.
He waved at her, but as always, she didn't answer back or even look up at him, as he continued on his way.

Later on his walk, he came across Cindy, her toddler and Kirk talking in the middle of the road.

Both the adults were talking together, Cindy in her usual red dress and Kirk with his baseball cap of the Mets that made it impossible not to recognize him.
Kevin was standing next to his mother's legs -since he was as tall as them- and playing with a toy truck in his hands, waving it up in the air while making plane noises.

Mr. Peterson smiled at the three of them but the two adults were so engrossed talking about a neighbor's recent death that they did not notice him.
Kevin, however looked up from the red toy and smiled with his tooth-missing mouth at Mr. Peterson when this one patted his head and went on his way.

Usually, Mr. Peterson stopped and actually talked with his fellow neighbors but the topic of another death so soon after his wife had also passed away didn't overjoy him, plus, this morning, he had something else to do.

He continued walking until he reached the small rocky way and stood in front of the familiar fence.

He stood in front of it, before he entered the cemetery  properly and went straight to her grave.

No one was around, so he could talk freely to her and he did.

He liked to imagine that wherever she was, she was listening and criticizing him playfully, just like she always did.

He had not brought any flowers with him and didn't plan on putting any on her grave because she'd always find ridiculous the idea of leaving something that was going to decay in the surface while she was doing the same, but down there.
That's one of the many things he loved about her of course, the fact that she wasn't a sentimental, except for their house. She'd made him promise not to sell the house.

He smiled and then, as always, went on his way.
He went out of the cemetery and took the same rocky road to come back to the first gray road and soon he found the familiar neighborhood he'd left earlier.

Kirk and Cindy were still talking, but Kevin was nowhere to be found.

Mr. Peterson went back home, passing the now empty yard of Mrs. James.

He got out once again a few hours later to run errands, and the day passed in a flash. He found himself lying down at sunset and fell asleep in the same bed with the same stripped pajamas.

The next morning, just like every single day, Mr. Peterson woke up with the sound of his alarm clock going off and blasting in his ears the sound of old pop music.

A hand reached out and pressed the top button repeatedly until the device finally stopped its loud music.

It took more than one and a half minute for the elder man to finally get out of bed and when he did, it was with a grunt.

He first walked to his desk, just like he did every morning, and looked at the calendar taped to the wall. It was already Thursday, the third of January so far, yes, so far.

LOL if you're confused just tell me cause I know this looks kinda confusing even to me if you don't catch it at the end.