Her Wednesday is your Saturday, and her Sunday is your Wednesday. She runs her own shop and shifted her own weekends. The shop was opened right after a bad breakup–she got the apartment, he got the friends. And she sat in that apartment for three Saturdays and three Sundays. The loneliness was unbearable, so she removed herself from the regular pace of the workweek, so that she might have her weekend when she could tell herself the reason she was alone was because everyone else was busy.
It was good for business, too. Wednesday and Thursday were never very busy days to begin with. Her customers were delighted to be able to shop on Saturdays. Her more loyal customers became something of a community, leisurely strolling in to visit on Sundays.
But time has passed since the breakup. No one is available to visit, to drink, to hang out with on Wednesday or Thursday nights. Her suburb is deserted during the day and in Fall, the barren tree branches make it look like a ghost town. She would like to return to Friday and Saturday, to be with new friends and old, but does not know that she can now afford to.