end of peace

wake and
it is early, get up, unsteady, remember the story of the heart specialist yesterday. The man started to compare the heart to a car engine.
He stopped that silly comparison when challenged.
The heart does not work with petrol.
The heart works, but the timing is wrong. Or something.
The blood pressure is way to low, says the woman who changed from unfriendly receptionist to friendly nurse. She takes the measurement five times.
And that was yesterday.

Go to the bathroom, go for a piss. This is all silly.
Back to the bedroom, straight through to the kitchen. Everything is bathed in the morning twilight. The careless mess left by the family, the dishwasher is open. Find the parts for the coffee grinder, start the machine, let it grind.
Put some espresso into the silver sieve after having removed the old coffee.
A black cloud of coffee grounds in the sink, moving away in a swirl down the plug hole.
The sieve with the fresh grounds set into the machine, an empty cup, check the water.
Press the button.
Brown liquid, ready to waken.


Take the cup of coffee and the laptop into the sitting room to have a read.

Then the sons alarm starts to honk.
the end of peace. The day starts to fall into pieces.