A Day Like Any Other…

Wednesday, a day like any other, begins with crusted over eyes and a groggy feeling reminiscent of a light hangover. A distant sound can be heard somewhere, gently stirring him from slumber. Sluggishly, eyelids peal and begin processing the new day. His head swims with fractured scenes that blur together in an incomprehensible pattern. The warm folds of his bed sheets wrap themselves around him, binding him in a way that feels it would take an immeasurable amount of strength to break. Gradually that distant sound begins to intensify, assaulting his ears until he can longer ignore it. Managing to free a captive arm he reaches for the source of the disturbance. Fingers fold around a cold rectangular plastic object and pull it towards his face. Staring unsteadily at the bright LED screen, stunned eyes adjust to the sudden exposure to intense light. With a single swipe across the face of the device the room is plunges into an abrupt silence, only the slight ringing in his ears remain. Laying there, enveloped in tranquility, he lets out a deep sigh and mumbles something incomprehensible to himself that might have been a series of curse words. Summoning a great deal of strength he inhales sharply, rips off the bonds that hold him captive and rises out of bed defiantly.

The next series of activities fly past with an artificial momentum as he hastily moves from one task to the next. The first action on this morning’s itinerary is to purge the ghastly aroma that haunts his mouth. As he begins brushing his teeth, staring deeply into his sleepy reflection he begins to wonder — Is it possible some small creature managed to find its way into my mouth and die overnight? His arm continues to works the toothbrush routinely, minty toothpaste cathartically clearing his clouded mind. Spit. Gargle. Rinse. Satisfied that whatever creature occupied his mouth overnight has been exorcised, he turns his attention to the shower. Casting aside the pungent garments of the previous night, he turns on the shower and climbs in. The restorative sensation of hot water flowing over his skin is always a therapeutic one and, even though rarely savoured, the most fulfilling aspect of any morning. A few moments later he’s feeling noticeably more alert and steps out of the shower to dry off his body. Pulling on his clothes, the same combination of black, white and grey he has worn for years, he works with a rehearsed autonomy. To round off his string of morning tasks is the most important meal of the day, also the most insipid — milk and cereal — Intended to provide sustenance and nothing more. Crunching loudly he stares absent-mindedly at the grey walls of his apartment, gathering thoughts and mentally preparing for the day ahead. Swallowing the last of the remaining milk he heads out, grabbing his jacket on the way and swiftly heads for the bus stop in a predetermined manner.

Stepping outside the contrast in temperature is immediately noticeable. He laments his laziness in drying properly, exposed damp hair left at the mercy of numbing temperature. When he finally makes it to the bus stop frigid air pierce his jacket fiercely, in what seems like a deliberate attempt to undo all the warmth the shower provided earlier. Thankfully, he didn’t have to endure this long, his morning routine timed to the minute, the bus arrived punctually. Stepping on the bus he flashes his travel pass and observes the plethora of miserable faces, crammed into this tin can. Pupils dart from contact as he scans for a vacant seat. With no available seat in sight he remains standing, arriving to the grim conclusion –This is the most standing I’ll do whole day. Approaching his stop he thumbs the buzzer, signalling the bus to stop. Hopping off, he begrudgingly marches toward the multi-story office building at the end of his path.

Once inside the shiny office building he ascends in an elevator and crosses a floor plate to his plain desk space. Arriving this early only one other recognisable face sits in the team space. Muttering the obligatory “morning” as he passes he sits down in a familiar spot. Slowly he unpacks his laptop from the drawer under his desk and patiently waits for it to start up. He swivels around on his chair and with a whisper, afraid to burst the bubble of silence, he asks his colleague if there’s anything newsworthy today. Without turning around his colleague lifelessly grumbles: “Same shit different Day”. Of Course he would say that — he thinks bitterly, casually swivelling back around to face his laptop screen. Logging in he begins work where he always does: checking his email for any trace of something eventful. To no surprise, he finds his inbox is filled with company newsletters and an assortment of uninteresting miscellaneous emails. In what can only be seen as an attempt to break free from another day’s haze of monotony his subconscious forces an idea bubbling to the forefront of his thoughts. A slow smile spreads across his face and he opens word processor, staring at the blank page attempting to conjure his feelings and thoughts into something tangible. He wonders where to begin and then, thinking back to his morning — and by extension his life — he begins to write:

“Wednesday, a day like any other…”

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If you’ve enjoyed my first piece, or even if you didn’t, I would really appreciate any feedback as I’ve just begun writing and am constantly learning.

Thank you for reading!

Nathanael Roman

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