Mornings & Routines

She sits next to me and as the bus starts moving, takes out her lip gloss. She twists its end and rolls it on her lips. She does this every morning and now the task is so ordinary and routine that she doesn’t need a mirror anymore. “You want it?” she asks, I smile and say “no”. The bus keeps moving. I only hear the engines; everyone is quiet. Our mornings never change. We wait for our yellow bus at the bus-stop and check the time. The sky is pure black and I’m thinking of my warm bed at home.
These mornings and afternoons have become too cliché, too redundant, too ordinary. We let them pass and think we would never want to look back at them. But there does come a time when looking back becomes a new habit, a need.

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