The morning: both the best and worst time of the day. On the positive side, coffee, a good meal, silence, but on the negative side: the beginning of another day, certainly abundant with the same things that came with the day before that and many before even that.
A chill jolted up Mal’s legs through the soles of this feet when they touched the nippy hardwood floor. The chill provided adequate energy to make it downstairs for the coffee pot, which would brew precisely twelve cups of the smoky black beverage at 8:00 each morning. The milk within its clear plastic jug awaited patiently its pouring into the coffee, as that was the only milk Mal would drink. Milk, to Malcolm, was insignificant, and should it have been a living thing, he’d not acknowledge it in even his loneliest times.
Glug…went the coffee as it met its morning milk. Maybe coffee and milk were soulmates in a sense; best pals.
Those of course were typical morning thoughts as Malcolm now sat on the couch already considering a nap. It was 8:15 AM, and Mal worked at 11:00. He hated his job; utterly loathed; despised; abhorred. So, he closed his eyes and opened them at 10:15. His coffee was now cold. The coffee pot now off, and the twelve cups inside it, just as.
He stood and made way to the coffee machine, dragging his feet as he did so. He obviously had a headache. But headaches and feet aside, Malcolm drank the tepid coffee right from the pot, ignoring its truly not-very-tasty taste.
Still wearing the clothes from yesterday–having slept in them, too–Malcolm popped a piece of mint gum in his mouth, and left his house. He’d probably be a little late for work, but really, he didn’t give even the measliest of shits.
When he made it to work it was 11:07. He was already late, so he stood outside the front doors for…for a while, really…