A day of bliss

No alarm. Just sunlight - pressing soft kisses through the blinds. Coffee drips in the quiet kitchen, its scent a hymn I never learned to sing, but always feel. Bare feet on cool tiles, the hum of nothingness - no deadlines, no demands, just time stretching like a lazy cat in the sun. I speak to no one. I owe no one. Even the clock ticks politely, unrushed. Sunday, you are not just a day. You are a breath held, then released slowly.