Bookmark #542

As I walk through the corridors of the building to reach my apartment door, I pass the usual. I pass the guard and the flat, with a plethora of plants outside it. And then, in a daily ritual, the cat scurries past my feet. This conniving miscreant, this thief, always manages to ransack my trash kept outside my apartment. It has made a habit out of it. Of course, I say this in a tone that seems far more annoyed than I am. If anything, it is a bit amusing to me. It is also a welcome back, and it makes me realise that this is what life reduces to when all is good and little is awry. The days end as they end, I work as I work, and then, I come back and see this cat run past me—a slender, grey shadow. But this is life, where you sit and tell yourself not to go and ruin it. It is all too good for me to ruin at the moment, but something tells me I tend to find a way.

For now, however, nothing has changed. I sit here even in October, as I sat here through the other months—working. And I look out the window now and then, and I see the sky change. This city is quite like the cat—it waits for a window and then sneaks up on you. You look outside out of habit and see the sky is pink or orange or another peculiar shade of all things calm and tranquil. And then, suddenly, you snap back into life. I am alive, you think, I must make a cup of coffee at this very moment, and I shall go out on the balcony and stand. So, that is what I do each time I catch the sky in a bit of a mood. And today was the same, I worked hard at things I enjoy, and then, I saw a floral overlay to everything. It was a sort of pastel coral; by it, I mean everything.

Yes, that is precisely how it all looked. So, I took the same cup sitting on the coaster on the desk to the kitchen, and I brewed coffee again, filling it. And then, I stood outside, looked around, and stretched a little. It was then that it occurred to me once again that I was happy.

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