A Regular Morning
Elena
I had a feeling that today was going to be a not so good day. The signs had already started showing themselves.
"Sofía, have you seen my yellow socks anywhere?" I called out from my room.
"No Elena, I haven't. And even if I did, I would keep them from you because I do not understand why a woman your age insists on wearing such aggressively bright colours on her feet."
"Hater!!"
After five minutes of searching with nothing to show for it, I settled for the blue ones.
"So you finally gave up," Sofía said, leaning against the doorframe taking in my full outfit. I was wearing a long blue sundress, black flats, and yes the blue socks. "I should have hidden those as well."
"Leave me alone."
"Breakfast is on the table. I packed it in a container so you can take it to the shop and eat there because you are already running late. I'll stop by later with coffee and something from the bakery on Carrer de Provença."
I grabbed my bag and my breakfast and paused to give her the most dramatic hug I could manage.
"What would I ever do without you."
"Absolutely thrive," she said, peeling me off her. "Now go."
The shop was only a fifteen minute walk from our apartment, cutting through one of the quieter side streets off Passeig de Gràcia. I loved that walk on most mornings the city was just waking up, the air still carried that early coolness before the heat settled in properly, and the streets had a kind of unhurried energy that made everything feel manageable.
This morning however, I arrived to find that the small shelf I kept just inside the entrance the one that held a rotating display of potted succulents had somehow come loose overnight and was leaning at an angle that suggested it had been making its way to the floor for several hours and was simply waiting for an audience. Three of the pots had already fallen, soil scattered across the tile floor, the succulents lying on their sides looking personally offended.
I stood in the doorway for a moment.
"Okay," I said to no one. "Okay."
I set my breakfast down, found the mop and a dustpan, and got to work. By the time I had cleaned up the soil, repotted what could be saved, secured the shelf back against the wall, and washed my hands twice, I had lost forty minutes and had not eaten a single bite.
Universe, I hope that's all for today.
I had just settled behind the counter with my container of breakfast and the novel I had been slowly working through for the past two weeks, when the small bell above the door rang.
I looked up to see Señor Romero walk in.
Señor Romero was my landlord. A tall, broad man in his early sixties with silver hair and the kind of permanent cheerful expression that made it very difficult to be annoyed with him even when the situation called for it.
"Elena! Buenos días. The shop is looking wonderful as always."
"Buenos días Señor Romero. You are too kind," I said, already feeling the specific anxiety of knowing exactly why he was here.
"I am sure you already know what brings me by."
"The rent," I said.
"The rent," he confirmed, not unkindly.
"I know it has been a week and I am sorry. Business has been a little slow this past month. I promise I will have it to you before this week runs out."
"Before the week is out," he repeated.
"Before the week is out."
"Bueno." He nodded, pulling his jacket straight. "Only because you are one of my most responsible tenants and because that arrangement you did for my wife's birthday last month was the reason I slept in a warm house that evening."
I laughed in spite of myself. "Tell her I say hello."The bell rang again as he left.I sat back down, looked at my food, looked at the slightlylopsided flower shelf, looked at the novel I had not opened, and exhaled veryslowly.Universe. Please. That is enough for one morning.I opened my book.
