cherri-pai

Morning Cocoon It's dark. A kettle is boiling. A spoonful of coffee grounds into the cafetiere. Another. Pour the water in. Stir. Put the lid on, grab a mug and take it outside. The sun is sliding over the horizon, such a sleepy head. Push the plunger down and pour the coffee. The steam rising from the mug mixes with the early fog. Remember how it all happened. There was pain, it was dull and unimpressive. It was like waking from a dream and finding yourself still dreaming. Reading a note from a friend: "It's Quiet, I can - barely- hear myself breathing, just the occasional CLANG of the gate, and the muffled sound of the traffic