I've been going Tuesday evenings

I've been going Tuesday evenings

for at least three years,

maybe four.

I didn't plan it that way.

It just sorted itself out.

Tonight I was standing by the bins

when the overhead mist came on—

that hiss, the cold settling

on my forearms before I stepped back.

The store was nearly empty.

That's the thing about Tuesday.

Wednesday it fills back up.

Thursday it's impossible.

But Tuesday at six-fifteen

there are maybe twelve people in the building

and the carts move without obstruction

and the bins are still full from the morning delivery

and the mist comes on over the lettuce

and the cold comes with it.

I stood there for a moment

and felt something close to relief.

I can't defend it.

The lettuce was cold.

A man in an apron was restocking the far end

without looking up.

The lights did their low hum.

I've never named what Tuesday is.

I've just been going.