Friday afternoon, ready to break the routine. A short walk into the city, on streets that have grown familiar and yet feel heavy, the hustle and bustle of those in a hurry palpable everywhere. A tram, turning its back on the city, squeals past me as if trying to pull me from the depths of my thoughts, as if it could free me from the weight of the day. People stream around me, the pulse of the city urging them forward, but my own rhythm remains unchanged, unshaken. At the bakery, where the scent of fresh bread lingers and the clerk greets me with a smile, as though there’s more to this moment than mere routine, I clutch the warm bag to my chest, as if it could hold onto some of this place’s comfort. Sometimes, everything you need fits into a simple bag, yet it feels heavy, as if I’m carrying the day itself home with me. The sun peeks through the facades one last time. A quick greeting from a neighbor, a nod from a passerby. Weary, I climb the stairs, clutching the bag tightly, as though I were holding my own restlessness in my hands, ready to carry it into the quiet of my four walls.
Friday November 8, 2024