Mood

Monday morning, 6am. Barely two hours of sleep and Megan didn’t win. Her award that is, the heart of her fans she did. But then, she had those sacked before, no ceremony needed, no nomination or award. Just her work and everyone is happy, including me as I sleep-walk into the bathroom, a quick shower to force myself awake. A quicker breakfast is what follows, Italian bread, honey, a cup of ginger tea. Now I should be able to face the day.

On my way to work then, I suddenly remember: I hurt my foot the other day, still don’t know how, but wearing high-heeled boots surely isn’t helping. But running late as usual, I rush on. Three weeks I walked in Canada with a hole in my foot, so why should a pulled muscle be any worse? So I get used to the discomfort by walking through the pain and manage to remain within an acceptable margin of delay. Until the train decides to pull a bitch on me. Strangers walking on the rails, the announcement says, police coming in to solve the issue. That’s when I realize, it’s Monday morning, the 13th. One stop I managed to get closer to work and then back to where I started. But lucky me, a bus is coming right away, an express even. I’m relieved. So off we go making up for lost time until a truck gets in our way, backing into a driveway in slow motion. Needless to say we’re stuck in the middle of the street. No internet connection, no escape. Why I’m so calm, I cannot possibly say.

As I arrive at central station fifteen minutes later, I crave a coffee but no Starbuck’s anywhere in sight, only a guy stopping my walk flow on the stairs three fluffing times. He gets the Medici glare and jumps aside. Paid off to wear black and gold today, it seems. I wonder why…

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