Saturday

This could turn out to be a good day, I think. I sit on the sofa reading ‘Death Comes to Pemberly’, while the husband makes pancakes for breakfast.

The day stretches ahead of me and I don’t mind waiting for the coffee decoction to trickle down the filter slowly. Nothing like the smell of freshly brewed filter coffee in the morning. I can even hear the sparrows chirping outside the window.

And then C turns on the television and puts on the news. Shouting anchors, put-upon guests and a stream of idiotic advertisements every 30 seconds fills the room. There goes the peace.

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