coffee

8:18 a.m. I am taking my time with instant coffee, by the dining table. The morning light is the colour of clouds, today ... I rarely see this, as I am not often up at this hour, recently. I have been sleeping slightly before dawn, but as always my circadian rotates back a little each day ... a leisurely pace, when I have the time.

The air is clear from rain late in yesterday's afternoon. Traffic on the overpass below, has subsided, it was busier around 6:30 a.m. Eggs form a little pyramid in a tray. A bottle of cheap gin I bought for a girl who doesn't visit anymore, sits by the ovens. These are just the shapely things, but many others are here unmentioned.

My life passes slowly before me. And I remind myself not to rush through it. It is going to end inevitably, so why rush? There is always the idea of doing more, but no apparent reward for rushing ... yet others would disagree, and those are their lives and their times to wile away.

The sound of water flows from the sink upstairs into the pipes above my head ... I hear it through the vent which allows air pressure to equalise through my ceiling when the winds blow, where the cheaply constructed ties holding up the plaster would otherwise creak.

I mean the water flows, but the sound propagates, you get my drift.