Chapter 32

Nobody remembered when the Thursdays started disappearing.

At first, people thought they were forgetting things.

A woman swore she had gone to sleep on Wednesday and woken up on Friday. Her coworkers laughed at her until they realized they couldn’t remember the missing day either. There were receipts dated Thursday in their wallets. Emails sent. Meals cooked. Bruises they couldn’t explain.

But nobody remembered living through it.

The government blamed stress.

Then another Thursday vanished.

And another.

People began preparing for them. Cameras were set up. Entire families locked themselves in living rooms to record whatever happened during the missing days.

Every recording came back corrupted.

Except one.

A teenage boy named Noah uploaded his family’s footage before disappearing.

The video began normally.

His mother knitted on the couch.

His father watched television.

Noah sat on the floor, playing a game.

At exactly 12:00 a.m. Thursday, everyone froze.

Not like statues.

Like puppets waiting for instructions.

The television switched on by itself.

The screen showed a man sitting in a yellow chair.

He was very thin.

His smile was too wide.

His eyes were closed.

He wore a name tag that simply read:

HELLO. MY NAME IS THURSDAY.

Nobody in the video reacted.

The man opened his eyes.

He looked directly into the camera.

Then directly through it.

He said:

“I’ve noticed some of you have been remembering.”

He unfolded a paper.

“You should know that humans aren’t supposed to experience Thursdays.”

He glanced down the list.

“Noah.”

The boy stood up.

He had not moved until then.

He walked toward the television.

“Noah, your laughter was excellent this week.”

The man reached out through the screen.

His arm stretched impossibly far.

The footage distorted.

Noah disappeared.

The man checked another name.

“Mrs. Bennett. Thank you for the dreams.”

Noah’s mother walked into the television.

One by one, the family entered the screen.

His father went last.

Before stepping through, he turned toward the camera.

Toward whoever would watch the recording.

His mouth moved.

Investigators slowed the footage frame by frame to read his lips.

He said:

“Pretend you don’t remember Thursdays.”

The video ended.

Authorities declared it a hoax.

Noah’s family was listed as missing.

People tried to forget.

They stopped discussing Thursdays.

They stopped checking calendars.

They stopped watching old recordings.

It worked.

Mostly.

Until last night.

You woke up feeling exhausted.

Your feet hurt.

There was dirt under your fingernails.

Your kitchen table was covered in yellow flowers.

And on your wrist, written in handwriting you don’t recognize, were the words:

THANK YOU FOR ATTENDING THURSDAY.

Below it, in smaller letters:

You were wonderful.

We’ll see you again this week.