A day when no one was in a hurry

Page thirty-six.

A day when no one was in a hurry

The morning was damp. Not wet - just damp, like breath under a blanket. The leaves were shining after the night's rain, and even the stones on the path looked calm.

The coffee was a little colder than usual. But that didn't spoil anything. On the contrary, no one was in a hurry that day. Not even the sky. Not even the seagull on the railing.

I thought: maybe happiness is just the opportunity to live the day slowly, at your own pace, without obligations to someone else's clock.

And I wrote it down here, in a notebook that no one checks.