The sun is just lighting the gutter on the neighbours house, the brown copper gutter and the yellowing white paint glowing in the direct light. This is still early, and it does not last long. The light gives way to a diffused sperad light, the hole in the cloud cover must be closed now.
The patch of brightness appears and disappears again as the clouds move across the sky. Apart from the ringing of church bells, telling the time and perhaps hopefully calling people to some early religeous service.
The rooms at the top of the house with the glass table and the two big computer screens placed on it is a refuge from the rest of the house and from the family. The occasional visit from the cat is a pleasant interlude. She wanders about like some kind of inspector, looking at things, trying to stare the occasional bumble bee out of the places it is buzzing abour minding it's own business.
The clock is ticking, marking time. There is nothing personal about this, it just keeps on saying that time is passing.
Time is being wasted all the time.
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