The Morning Dance

It is 7:00am. The kettle whistles as the eggs dance in a pot of boiling water nearby. I look over at the microwave clock to note the time again. “7:01," I say to myself. I like my eggs hard-boiled. Not half-boiled. The yolk has to be cooked right – when the orange turns yellow.

I continue scrolling through my Twitter feed and catch up on my daily dose of what’s happening around the world. My feet are perched on the chair in front of me. I find a good article and dive into it. I am comfortable and don’t want to move.

A few minutes into the article, I can hear the eggs announcing their readiness. The egg dance gets louder. The raging water spills from the pot. 7:10. They’re done. I quickly put my phone down and walk over to the stove to turn it off. I grab a spoon to scoop one of the eggs and run it under cold water.

I gently smash the egg against the counter to create that initial set of cracks and start picking away quickly as my fingers scream with pain. It’s done. I slice the egg and sprinkle it with some salt and red chilli powder.

I pour myself a cup of chai and walk back to the kitchen table hoping to find that comfortable position.

The spicy eggs compliment the hot tea. I’m satiated. Breakfast is done. I move on to tackle the rest of my day.

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