The Last Ordinary Day
The alarm broke the morning silence.
It was 6:30.
He didn't wake up.
It rang again at 6:35, echoing through the apartment.
"Five more minutes," he mumbled to an empty apartment.
Five became twenty.
He got up and slipped two slices of bread into the toaster.
Moving around the apartment hastily, he got ready as he was already running late.
The smell of burnt toast filled the apartment.
He sighed.
"Again."
He didn't bother making another.
He was used to it.
He picked up a packet of biscuits.
He scraped the burnt bits off the toast.
Spread butter over both sides.
Then walked out of the apartment with it hanging from his mouth.
The apartment door hadn't even closed before a stray dog came running toward him.
"Charlie... it's you again," he said.
Charlie's tail wagged furiously.
He opened the packet of biscuits and handed every last one to him.
"You know, one day you're going to start expecting this."
Charlie barked.
"I know, I know."
He smiled.
"Come back tomorrow."
Charlie watched him disappear down the street before lying back down in his usual spot.
On the walk to work, he noticed little things.
A child laughing.
An old man reading a newspaper.
Sunlight dancing across a puddle left behind by yesterday's rain.
He smiled at them all.
Not because they mattered.
Just because he noticed.
He stepped into the same small restaurant he visited almost every day to buy lunch.
"The usual?" the cashier asked.
He nodded.
"And... no tomatoes, please."
"Of course, sir."
Five minutes later...
Tomatoes.
He stared at the sandwich.
Then quietly picked them out one by one.
"Again?" he mumbled.
Walking into his office, he greeted the security guard with the same smile he wore every morning.
"Morning."
"Morning, sir."
The office, though filled with people, somehow always felt empty.
He worked alone.
Not because he preferred it.
Because no one ever invited him otherwise.
Keyboards clicked.
Phones rang.
Conversations drifted through the room.
None of them belonged to him.
Time passed quietly.
"Lunch?" someone called.
He looked up.
The man wasn't talking to him.
Two coworkers walked past his desk together.
He smiled anyway.
Then opened his lunchbox.
Inside sat the sandwich.
Now tomato-free.
Beside it rested a worn, leather-covered journal.
He opened it.
Like always.
He wrote:
"Woke up late again today. Burnt the toast. At this point, I think it's becoming a talent."
"Fed Charlie a packet of biscuits, like every day. He looked kind of sad today. Maybe I'm just imagining it."
"I think the restaurant cashier hates me. I ask for no tomatoes every single day, and every single day I get tomatoes."
He paused.
Smiled to himself.
Then wrote one last line.
"Nothing interesting today. Nothing new. It's just another ordinary day."
He closed the journal.
By the time work ended, night had already settled over the city.
As he exited the building, the security guard smiled.
"Hope you had a great day."
"I did. Thanks."
For once...
It wasn't a forced smile.
He stopped by a convenience store before heading home.
Eggs.
Chicken.
A loaf of bread.
Butter.
Another packet of biscuits.
A bottle of ketchup.
He looked into the basket.
"That should do."
The evening air was cool.
The streets had grown quieter.
He walked toward his apartment.
Tired.
Exhausted.
A loud horn shattered the silence.
Too loud.
Too close.
He turned.
A young woman stood in the middle of the road.
Frozen.
The truck wasn't slowing down.
He didn't think.
The grocery bag slipped from his hand.
Eggs cracked against the pavement.
The loaf of bread rolled into the gutter.
He ran.
He reached her.
He shoved her out of the truck's path.
Then,
Silence.
As if time itself had frozen.
People rushed toward them.
Some were shouting.
Some were crying.
Someone yelled,
"Call an ambulance!"
The siren grew louder.
His world grew quieter.
Beside him...
His journal lay open.
The wind turned another page.
