He stumbled slightly, the limp in his leg still there. He dared not to look at the place he used to call home. He could feel the heat from the fire, the fire that he himself had ignited. He blinked back tears, as he limped away.
'This must be Thursday,' said Arthur to himself, sinking low over his beer. 'I never could get the hang of Thursdays.' — Douglas Adams, The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy
