Just a Morning

I boiled water like I always do. Nothing special.

Two slices of bread went into the toaster. One stayed in a bit longer than I meant to. Not really burnt, but the edges got harder than I wanted. It felt like that was going to set the tone for the whole day.

The butter was too cold. It wouldn’t spread right, just slipped around on the surface. The toast wasn’t hot enough anymore to melt it properly. I ended up tearing a corner. Not a big deal, but for some reason, I felt disappointed in myself. Over toast.

Outside, the sky was gray. Not really raining, not really bright. Just there.

The neighbor’s dog was doing circles again in their yard. Same as always. Never looks over here. I don’t know why I even watch.

And then I stood still. Not thinking much. Just… still.

I was holding the knife with butter on it, looking out at nothing. I wasn’t in a rush. Didn’t have anywhere to be. But my head wasn’t quiet either. Just… noise Iwasn’t listening to.

I didn’t even sit down. I stood by the counter holding the same piece of toast I hadn’t bitten yet.

It wasn’t profound.

It wasn’t sad.

I wasn’t happy either.

I don’t know why I remember that moment so clearly. Nothing really happened.

But it’s stuck there, like a paused frame.