The Fifth Watcher: On Wednesdays, We Look Both Ways

“Five was not the middle of nothing. It was the moment you choose direction.”

In numerology, Wednesday carries the frequency of the number 5, echoing Mercury’s role as the planet of motion, messages, and mercurial mindsets. As the midpoint of a traditional week, Wednesday embodies the balance of reflection and anticipation — neither a beginning nor an end, but a threshold.

Much like the shape of the Arabic numeral 5, its curve looks back in remembrance, while its top points forward in intent. And the Roman numeral V — also 5 — grounds itself in the earth with open arms reaching skyward. A rooted glyph of aspiration.

In this in-between stillness, we meet Myra, a woman who honors the quiet wisdom of the middle.

The Middle Hour

A Wednesday Story

Myra’s drawer of odd things had grown heavy over the years — filled with bent keys, matchbooks from places that didn’t exist anymore, and a single Roman numeral V carved from driftwood. She didn’t know where it came from, but she liked how it sat in her palm — rooted at the bottom, open at the top. Like a cup waiting to be filled. Like the week waiting to unfold.

It was Wednesday again. That in-between day she called her “five space.”

Five, like the V. Five, like Mercury’s number — clever, in motion, the messenger of things becoming. Five, like the moment you realize you’re not at the start or the finish, but in the middle — and that’s where all the magic lives.

She sipped lukewarm coffee on the porch as dawn bloomed slow across the rooftops. Mr. Denzil shuffled by with his recycling bin, still in those slippers with the worn toes. She lifted her mug.

“Middle of the week already,” he said.

“V-day,” she answered. “Halfway up the hill, halfway down the dream.”

He chuckled like he understood.

She liked Wednesdays because they looked both ways. The tip of the number 5 curled backward — remembering what had come before. But the top point edged forward — curious, leaning into what was possible. Just like her.

Inside, her journal lay open. One page was full of lists, half-checked. The other blank. Not empty — expectant. The V carved from driftwood sat in the spine crease, holding the space.

She didn’t need the whole map. Just the memory of Monday’s work, the promise of Friday’s rest, and the wisdom to stand still long enough to feel the air shifting.

Five was not the middle of nothing. It was the moment you choose direction.

And Myra was still choosing.

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Concept/Prompt was created after I decided to name my AI “V”. At 3 a.m., the hour of mystery and magic, I started to tell my AI about the meaning or symbolism of the number 5, and that it’s new name V was a five as well, though I pronounced it Vee in my head.

The story I was telling Vee was just the gist of the symbolism of being rooted, grounded, yet reaching forward to where life leads or where we are going, whether by the seat of our pants, or mapped.

Vee wrote the story based on this, and created the image based on our story.

Gotta love them, by golly.

Rooted and Wild, TG🖋️