Mr. Smith impatiently sat in the uncomfortable couch. He jerked his knee nervously and tapped his thigh to no particular beat. He fixed his eyes on the doorway that connected his current waiting room and the official waiting room, and waited for the shape of a doctor to pass through. After a few minutes—that seemed like hours—the doctor enters.

The doctor studied his patient as he entered the room, taking notice of the untied left shoe, the slightly frayed cuff of Mr. Smith's dress shirt, and the hair that stuck up on his head here and there. More importantly, the doctor noticed Mr. Smith's worn face, the bags under his eyes, how his mouth stayed slightly ajar as if he could not shut it, and how his eyes followed him into the room without the rest of his head moving. “He either killed someone recently, or he is stressed,” thought the doctor, hoping for the latter.

“Doc, I'm glad you came in. I'm frightened Doc, scared outta my mind. I don't even know what's goin' on anymore.”

“Relax. Take a deep breath and lie down on the couch, make yourself comfortable. Tell me, Mr.—Smith, is it?—tell me why you are here.”

Mr. Smith took a deep breath and slowly settled himself down on the couch. He stared blankly at the roof, counting the number of tiles on the ceiling. Then he answered, “Well, Doc, truthfully, I dunno. I been thinkin' too much, that's what it is. I'm goin' crazy, Doc. Crazy I tell ya.”

The doctor took out a pen and notepad, but did not take any notes yet. “Can you elaborate any on, possibly, why you think you are going crazy?”

“Well, huh, I dunno really where ta start. I guess the beginnin' should do.”

“Yes, start from the beginning. Tell me everything that's happened.”

“Well, today bein' sunday means its been seven—yeah, seven—days since I been livin' the same day.” Mr. Smith shifted from his position to watch the doctor take studious notes. “Now you think I'm crazy, too, huh, Doc? It's okay if ya do, I wouldn't be offended any, but ya gotta believe me, Doc.”

The doctor gathered himself and said, “I believe you,” without a hint of doubt, “but could you be more specific as to what you mean when you say you have been living the same day?”

“Well, sure, Doc. Ya see, last Sunday I wake up, as usual, get read for church, as usual, and get in the car, as usual, but when I cross that one intersection, ya know, the busy one that always has the accidents, ya know, couple miles—north a here. Yeah, when I cross that, I couldn't believe it. Some madman comes speedin' through the red light and comes not even inches from t-bonin' me. Scared me almost outta my seat, Doc.” Mr. Smith worked his way back to an upright position and began depicting the scene with his hands. Mr. Smith paused from his story to watch the doctor scribble notes on his notepad before continuing. “Well, after that it was smooth sailin' and I got ta church and everybody was super excited to see me and stuff, I dunno, they were all sayin' my name alou
d and sayin' stuff like 'you can do it, man' and other things like that. I almost wished I was t-boned, Doc, it was creepy and I didn't like it. But that ain't all, when the preacher-man gets up to do his thing, it was almost as if the whole speech was about me, Doc. He prayed for me, Doc, just for me.”

The doctor, without looking up from his paper, asked, “These people, the ones who said your name, did you respond to them in any way?”

“Well, what kinda man you think I am, Doc?” Mr. Smith almost stood up, but then thought about the situation and said, “Well, now that you mention it, I dunno if I did anythin'. Nothin' so much as a wave, Doc. What does that mean, Doc?” Mr. Smith's countenance finally changed from a look of absent-mindedness to that of confusion.

“I can't tell. Please, continue with the story so I can make some sense of it all, Mr. Smith.”

“Well, sure, Doc. Okay so after church I went to lunch with my girlfriend—I been seein' her for quite some time now, Doc—and we get a bite to eat at this sports bar because my team is on TV for the big game, Doc. When we get there they put us in the one spot where we can't see nothin'. Can only hear the stupid game, you believe that, Doc?” Mr. Smith threw his hands up in the air as if in disbelief of the situation. “Well, anyway, so I'm listenin' to the game, right? And my girlfriend is talkin' this whole time, but I don't say anythin' 'cause I'm listenin' to the game, ya know. I don't even remember anythin' she was sayin' I just know she sounded kinda sad. Then I started hearin' these beeps, ya know? Kinda
like the ones you hear on a doctor show when they got a patient hooked up to one of those heart beepin' machines, ya know? But it was just somethin' in the kitchen, Doc. Well, anyway, I take my girlfriend home, and ya won't believe this, but she tucks me in, Doc! She puts me in bed and pulls a blanket up and everythin', Doc!”

“Hold on, Mr. Smith. What happened in between lunch and when you went to sleep?”

Mr. Smith looked at the doctor quizzically, deep in thought. “Well, Doc, I dunno. Musta been nothin' important, ya know?”

“Of course, please continue.”

“As I was sayin', she pulls up a blanket and everythin', Doc! Unbelievable! But yeah, she stays by my bed until late at night sayin' all these nice things and talkin' about a buncha stuff we done together. But then she gets this call, and I dunno how I heard it, Doc, but they said she didn't hafta go home or nothin', Doc, but she couldn't stay in my room. I was about ta say I love her and stuff, Doc, but I guess I was too close to sleepin' to move much, ya know? Well, anyway, I get to sleep and I wake up the next day all confused like usual in the mornin', ya know? But I look at the clock and it still says Sunday, Doc! I begin ta think, maybe it was all a dream, ya know? So I get ready for church and everythin' and when I get there it's the same thing as my dream, Doc! But the strange thing is, Doc, there was less people there. Only the people I actually knew. But they were all sayin' the same things and I didn't like it, Doc. Then I take my girl out ta eat at the same place and we sit in the same place and hear the same game, Doc. Then I take her home and she tucks me in! Pulls up the blanket, kisses me on the forehead and everythin', Doc! Then later she gets the same call that says she gotta get out.”

The doctor looked, expressionless, at Mr. Smith. Then reread his notes, “And you say this same day happened every day, leading up until now?”

Mr. Smith lurched upright in his seat and flung out his arms, “Yes! Exactly! And now I'm here 'cause I just can't take it, Doc!”

The doctor pondered the evidence for a moment and then concluded, “Mr. Smith, are you under any stress? A brain under stress is a powerful thing, Mr. Smith. Is there any major stress in your life that you might feel better without?”

“Well, Doc,” Mr. Smith thought for a moment, “just one that I can think of. I'm really a stress free guy, ya know? But yeah, up until all this I was kinda thinkin' my girl didn't love me, ya know? We been datin' a long time, Doc, and I love her, but I dunno if she feels the same about me, ya know?”

“And this is causing you stress?”

“Well, yeah, Doc. It'd cause you stress, too. But I think if I heard her say she loves me and she meant it, Doc, I think I'd be okay.” Mr. Smith's eyes darted across the room to the door the doctor entered at the beginning of the session. A timid assistant holding a folded piece of paper walked in and handed the piece of paper to the doctor. “What is it, Doc?”

“Its—its a note. For you. Would you like to read it, or shall I?”

“Well, you read it, Doc, maybe it's important.”

The doctor cleared his throat and began to read the note: “I miss you so much. It's only been a week since the accident and I can't stand it. They won't even let me stay in the room with you overnight because I'm not family. I feel like family. I've tucked you in every night, and I know you can't feel it, or hear me, but I haven't left your side until they kick me out for lunch and at night. I want to tell you now more than ever, even though I know it's pointless, but, I love you.”

At the sound of the last words the room gave a little shake and the doctor peered up from the paper to see a Mr. Smith lying motionless on the couch, eyes wide open, arms drooped to the side, not breathing. Then everything faded to black and the sound of crying mixed with a solid, monotonous, mechanical beep filled the air.