Today, Nothing Happened
Some days, nothing happens. Not literally nothing, of course. The alarm rings with its familiar, sharp mechanical rhythm, the kettle boils with a quiet, whistling parallel tempo, and messages arrive with soft vibrations across the surface of the nightstand. Someone forgets something, someone else remembers another. The elevator stalls between floors, the traffic down on the street is irritable and mildly aggressive, and the sky exchanges its gray mantle for a slightly lighter one. We move through the familiar, well-oiled machinery of the day, and when evening finally falls, we discover with quiet wonder that there is not a single specific moment worth telling. No good news to stir our chests. No bad news to shake our foundations. No deep, transformative conversation, nor an unexpected meeting to alter the direction of our steps. No decision that changes anything at all. The day simply passes - quietly, neutrally, as if slipping between our fingers. I used to hate these days. I to...
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