6:00 a.m., Monday

And all over again

The alarm clock screams as if it is in shock from what is happening. Coffee won't help, my face won't wake up, and the calendar seems to be mocking me: so many days ahead, and all of them suspiciously work-related.

On the table are the remnants of yesterday's promises: notes, scraps of paper, scattered thoughts. The tea bag looks reproachfully, but it's too late — we've chosen something stronger. One sock again, just like you in this hell of wakefulness.

And all this is just breakfast.

Welcome to the new cycle.