The sound of static filled the room like the insidious buzz of a thousand insects, the antique television unable to pick any signals up from the antenna on top of the house. 

It had been quite some time since the days of television. Decades, in fact. Yet, Nelson continued to turn it on every day, for 30 minutes each time, just waiting for an image to appear. It didn’t even matter what it was. It just had to be something. 

“Dad, the teevee is too loud!” his daughter shouted from behind the couch, jolting Nelson from his trance. He turned around to see her standing there, hands on her hips, a pout on her face. A smile crept its way to his lips, and he picked up the remote, silencing the television fourteen minutes early. 

“Sorry, sweetie. How was your day?” 

“Was okay,” she said, same as she did every day. She dropped her bag onto the ground next to the stairs, walking around to the front of the couch and sitting next to him. 

“Learn anything new at school?” 

“Nah.” 

Nelson chuckled, shaking his head. “Why are they making me pay for your lessons, then?” 

She looked up, thinking. “Maybe one thing. In history class. Did you know we used to have seven days instead of six?” 

His smile faded immediately. “Did we really?” 

“Yeah!” 

He tapped the television remote, his finger rubbing the on button. He remembered the day it changed like it was only yesterday. “Did they tell you why we only have six now?” 

“Miss said the seventh day was really a fake day that some really lazy people made up so they could have extra time to be lazy!” 

“Lazy people, huh?” He said, doing his best not to look his daughter in the eye. That’s what he used to think, too. That people were lazy for wanting time to themselves, that hobbies and entertainment were a waste of time. He already worked sixty-hour weeks; when the government mandated that it was to be the new norm, he just laughed at the protesters that were filling the streets, rallying against the change. They just had to suck it up and deal with it. 

“Yup. So the president said one day they were getting rid of it, because people are much more happy when they do work. Now we have six days, and everyone is more happy!” 

He gritted his teeth, gripping the remote. It didn’t seem like his wife was part of that ‘everyone.’ She was there, participating in the protests from the very start. He’d always ask her why, what the point of it was. He’d tell her she was delusional if she thought she could change anything by marching in the streets and screaming. “That’s very interesting.” 

“You don’t sound like you think it’s interesting. You look bored.” 

He shook his head, finally looking back at her. “No, that’s not – that’s not it at all. It’s just… wouldn’t people be happier if they had more time to do the things they enjoy, and not less?” 

“What do you mean?” 

“Well, what do you like doing?” 

She frowned at him. “What do I… Like doing?” 

“What activities make you happy?” 

“Um…” she sat there, her chin in her hands, brow furrowed deeply. Then, she sat up, a grin plastered onto her face. “Coming home makes me happy!” 

Nelson’s heart swelled, and he leaned over to hug her tightly. But as they hugged, he felt that cold emptiness swiftly seep in once more. “Does anything else you do make you happy?” 

“Not really. Anyway, I gotta go do homework. I love you, dad!” She leapt off the couch, waving goodbye to Nelson, who gave her a small wave back, trying his best to smile. 

He called her selfish, irresponsible. He blamed her when on the night they took Sunday, they stole her life as well, erasing her and the protests from history. But now, he finally understood. 

He pressed the on button for his television again, watching the static pop back up. Maybe someday, she’d have an answer.