Bookmark #403

I woke up today. There was little time to begin the day, but I took it regardless. I set the kettle to boil water. I took a spoonful of coffee grounds, put them into the portafilter, stamped them, twisted it back in, and waited until the machine laughed and made all possible sounds. I laughed in turn, and then a stream of golden nectar started to drop into the cup. I poured some hot water over it to cut the espresso, and I sat on my chair. It occurred to me: it had rained last night. I knew because I had been up past midnight, working, and heard a commotion. I thought it couldn’t be anything else in this town at this hour; it must be the rain. Outside, the storm raged, and the petrichor wafted around like a profuse scent, like those we often smell in a bakery right when we enter it. I left the door open with a curtain pulled over it and slept to the sound of the patter and thunder. With this memory of the rain sparking my curiosity about what it managed to do last night, I got off my chair. I went to the balcony with its moist grass, barefoot. My first step was enough—the grass felt like a paddy field, which woke me up in ways my coffee could never have.

I walked over the grass carpet like some guest invited to open an event. I watched the world around, how it had washed anew. The sky was clear enough to see the most faraway hills, now visible like the back of my hand. The lychee and mango trees spread all around the neighbourhood. June was almost here; the fruits of spring arrived right on time. A couple of bulbuls flew close to me and landed on the adjacent balcony. One of them looked at me to wish me good morning and went back into the air. Then, a flock of parakeets flew over the sky as if commuting to work together. I would not know what they do, but they seemed in a hurry. It was Monday, after all. Perhaps, I was the only one who had time to stand on the balcony sipping coffee; even the birds had places to be. While I thought about the day ahead, I knew how the worst that could happen would be a few things left undone. There was nothing to worry about, as long as there was tomorrow. As long as I stole these pockets of time, there would always be tomorrow.

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