A Story

I woke up early and brewed fresh coffee for my flatmates and myself. The sun sends in rays of soft warmth through the large, dirty windows in our kitchen. Our street slowly begins to awaken, as students walk to campus laughing with their friends, the postman pets our neighbour’s cat on the pavement, and mothers take their children to daycare.

One of my flatmates, Telo, is handing in his final project for the semester tomorrow. He came back from the studio at 11 pm last night and he was so stressed that we decided to make pancakes for breakfast today, as they are his favourite. Mine not so much, but it’s a good opportunity for a mini-celebration as our last breakfast together before we all slowly start flying back to our home countries for summer break. I’m sitting my last exam today and flying back home this weekend.

Where’s Nico? These pancakes will be cold by the time he crawls out of bed, Liya smirks, unable to hide her sweet, motherly concern. In that case, more for me, Telo laughs, adding another two slices to his plate, smothering them in maple syrup. It’s 08:15, we’re sitting around the table, basking in the sunlight, discussing what we dreamed about last night. We laugh about the happy ones and google the meanings of the sadder ones. According to dreammoods.com, it seems that Liya is going to have to make a difficult decision soon, while I should be careful of the people around me, even if they seem as genuine as one could be. It’s a day like any other, I tell myself, disregarding the knots in my stomach from the stress of exams and the angst of another year being over in a couple of hours.

I never really had a vision for the endings of made up stories. May whoever is reading this have a lovely day.