The Warmth of a Cloudy Morning
The light seeping in between the curtains is unusually soft. The scenery outside looks blurred like a watercolor, and the footsteps of people on the street are a little slower too. The warmth of just waking still lingers in the room. Steam curls up from the coffee I set on the table, and its scent slowly straightens shoulders that had been hunched all winter. It seems today is a day when there's no need to hurry anything.
Cloudy
I remember a grandmother I met in the morning market alley, walking slowly with a basket full of radishes in her arms. The earthy smell of those radishes still lingers on my fingertips.