The Day When Nothing Happened
On a morning like any other morning, nothing exciting , nothing unusual, bound to happen the things would take their normal course. Just another day to pass like the day before and the day before and so on. A routine. A boring, never ending, self-made routine in which only the coffee seemed a bit different: more bitter, maybe stronger. Like a self-given kick in order to find the strength to fight the routine. It was those very early moments in the morning when nothing seemed to happened and yet after the cup was left alone on the table it would begin.