The next day, I breeze through my morning routine: a quick jog around the city, shower, and then breakfast. A simple morning routine for a simple life.
A quick jog in the morning is quite helpful to keep my thoughts in organize. During my jog, I actually stumbled upon a group of dogs walked by with their-what, I assume, is the owner of those dogs, or maybe it's an employee in the animal shelter near my place since the dogs they were walking are too much for a single owner to have in this big city. Plus, the pack of dogs has some variety of breeds. There were some that are golden retrievers, while there are those little rascals white terriers. Okay, maybe it is an employee in the animal shelter walking those dogs.
After a jog around the city and a jog back to my apartment, I was so drenched in sweat that it looks like a very specific rain cloud decided to pour all the rain contents on me. I'm still feeling the runner's high on my way to my room. I decided to take the elevator since I think my legs had enough workout for today. By the time I reach my apartment door, that's the moment where my legs decided to give up on me. Oh, thank God I took the elevator instead of the stairs. If my legs decided to give up on me while I'm on the stairs, that'll be an unfortunate accident.
Holding myself up on the door frame while my other tried to fish out my keys. Once I finally fish out my keys, I insert them in the keyhole and twist until I heard a familiar click of unlocking my door. I didn't expect for my door to slowly swing open, which made me almost lose my balance and fall on the floor. It seems I'm not really holding myself up on the door frame, thankfully I have the reflex of a cat. Well, almost, I nearly fall face first on my wooden floorboards if my other hand didn't go straight to the doorknob. This must be a weird sight to watch. Seeing a man almost stumble on the floor because he couldn't feel his legs.
Something tells me this is my fault for overdoing it. Nah, it's my brain being disorganized the moment I woke up from my slumber, making my entire body crave to have a jog around the city.
I slowly enter my threshold, carefully trying not to fall on to the floor. Once I have a decent distance between the door, I reach behind me to swing my door close and lock it, and went straight to the nearest couch. Unexpectedly, my mouth lets out a loud sigh of relief when my ass touched the soft couch as my entire body lean backwards until my back hits the back of the couch. I could sleep in this position, but I have to stay awake since I would rather not soak the couch too much of my sweat. It's quite difficult to clean a couch. I should probably try to get a stain-proof couch in the future.
Once I feel well-rested-and I can feel my legs again-I push myself up the couch and head straight to the bathroom to take a shower. I feel dirty feeling these sweat dry on my skin and nothing a good warm shower could fix that feeling. Before I could step on the bathroom, I immediately remember my charging phone. It was a bit annoying during my jog I couldn't listen to some music since the moment I woke up I forgot to charge my phone. So, in a result, I left my phone in the bedroom to charge until I came back from my jog. It's time for my phone's redemption.
I quickly stroll to my bedroom and check the percentage of my phone. Unfortunately, my phone isn't fully charge, it's only at 83%, but I don't mind using it while it's not fully charged. There's this faint voice in my mind telling playing music in my phone would be a terrible idea. I chuckle at that thought, there's no way listening to some music during a shower would be a terrible idea. My brain is acting weird, perhaps it's the exhaustion from jogging.
When I finally hop on the shower, I make sure to open the music application on my phone before the water hit my entire body. Wouldn't want my wet hands destroying one of the things that keeps my sanity intact. I decided to hit shuffle and keep playing the song on repeat because I'm feeling a little hungry and I don't have time for some private concert in the shower. But when my other hand press the shuffle button while the other turns on the shower-multitasking is my finest skill-the song the decided to play is one of the songs that I swore to stay away from. My phone is torturing me with the song, Tonight by FM Static. Well, too late to hit shuffle again, the water from the shower have already branched off to my other fingers, making me swipe my hands away from my hands to avoid any droplets on the screen. Another thing I need to buy in the future is a waterproof phone in case of this kind of emergency. Also it's not even nighttime, this is not a perfect time to hear that song.
With a sigh, I begin my shower routine while that song plays in the background. I could practically hear the faint voice in my mind earlier laugh at how tortuous this situation is. I'm starting to think I'm a masochist, but not for sex. Part of me wants to quickly finish this shower routine, while the other part wants to vigorously scrub my entire body until every bit of my dried sweat is gone off my body. I'm conflicted, and this song playing in the background isn't helping my situation at all. After a minute of deliberation of what I should do, I decided to keep torturing myself on listening to this song while I try my best to keep every inch of my body squeaky clean. This song would not stop me, but it might make me have a breakdown in the shower.
Luckily, the breakdown in the shower didn't happen once I hop out of the shower 10 minutes later. I begin to dry my entire body before grabbing my phone with my dry-out hands to stop the song. If I hear another repeat of that song, my sanity will break, and I will begin to curl on the floor in a fetal position while having a breakdown. Plus, I just finished taking a shower, lying on the bathroom floor would make that effort useless. Wrapping the towel around my waist, I grab my already-silenced phone before I feel a tear slip on my cheek.
As I head to my bedroom to grab some clean clothes, it just dawned on me that Ethan will visit me anytime soon. I definitely wouldn't let my best friend see me that I've almost had a breakdown. He wouldn't let me hear the end of it. Once I reached my wardrobe, I flung it open and grab some regular clothing: basically just a t-shirt and some pants. Nothing too classy and fashion since I've intended to stay on my apartment until the day is over. Then maybe the next day too, then the other day. Damn, I might have the most boring week vacation.
After I'm fully clothed, I head straight to my kitchen to see what I could make for breakfast. Scanning the ingredients I have in the kitchen, I could easily make a simple omelette, but the constant aroma of the left-over muffins I had last night keeps purging into my senses and telling my brain to eat the muffins for breakfast. Even my rumbling stomach agrees with the thought of eating muffins for breakfast. It is quite fitting since muffins are originally for breakfast, plus these are homemade with love by Ms. Jess, so it'll be a healthy breakfast.
I stroll to my desk, since I just learned that I've left the basket of muffins on the desk right before I go to sleep. As I reach for the basket handle, my eyes dart towards the flimsy paper lying on the desk while a stapler held it down. I can't believe I actually wrote that entire letter manually. Part of me wonders if Gail appreciates handwritten letters. After all those years, I still remember all of her favorites and preferred things, but time flies and people change, so I don't think if handwritten letters are still her preferred things to receive.
Grabbing both the letter and the basket, I head straight back to the living room and place both of them on the coffee table. I place something heavy to hold down the flimsy paper on the table—the closest thing I could find is a miniature figure of an elephant—I have no idea how I got this and when did I acquire this interesting figurine. Nonetheless, once I've placed the elephant figurine on the paper, I begin my search to find the TV remote. Nothing sounds better than watching something on the TV while eating muffins for breakfast. I deserve this treatment after almost my pair of legs.
I slide open a drawer on the TV stand to see if I've stashed the remote in there. After a minute of me digging my hands in the drawer, I finally feel the familiar sensation of a remote-like object. I would be surprise if this remote I'm feeling is just a toy remote for kids because I don't have any kids in my apartment, that would be weird. But no, it's the actual remote to my TV. I gently kick the drawer shut while heading back to the couch. It's time to sit back, relax, and eat muffins for breakfast. I press the power button on the TV, and it's time to spend a few minutes to see what interesting things I could watch. After a full on—I release a heavy sigh—15 minutes of looking around something interesting to watch, I finally settled on watching a mystery thriller movie.
As the opening credits of the film begun to play, I try to grab a muffin in the basket, only to realized that I haven't reheated these scrumptious fellas. With a loud groan, I grab the basket handle and take the muffins to the kitchen and preheating the over for me to reheat these muffins. Fuck, I'm so goddamn hungry, but I have to wait a little more for me to eat. Nothing tastes better than a warm muffin fresh from the oven. Wait, it's not fresh anymore since I'm just reheating it. Hunger can make me feel like an idiot. A smirk forms on the corner of my lips, at least I'm not an angry when I'm hungry like Ethan. Man, I really will take every opportunity I get to make fun of my best friend. I bet he makes fun of me too in his mind. That's why we're best friends.
After waiting another 10 minutes for my muffins to reheat, I put on mittens on both of my hands before pulling out the hot tray from the oven. By the second the muffins meets the open air of my kitchen area, the smell of the warm muffins made my stomach rumbles again. I can't wait to devour these muffins. For the convenience of the basket, I pour the warm muffins back to where they came from and remove the mittens after closing the oven door. Once again, I grab the basket handle and head back to the living room, where the movie had already started. Should I rewind to see what had happened before this scene, or let my imaginative brain fill in the blanks? One glance at the muffins had already told me I'll be choosing the latter.
Once I think the muffins are warm enough for me to pick one up, I guide one lone muffin to my mouth and immediately stop when a knock comes from my front door. It's not the kind of knock that screams urgency, but it's a very calm knock that whispers patience. I sat on the couch, a muffin near mouth, to check if that knock was really on my front door, or it's from the movie I'm watching. Seconds have passed, the knock didn't happen, so I assume it was just from the movie. I took one small bite of the muffin and involuntary let out a groan of satisfaction. Fuck, that tastes so damn good.
I was trying to take another bite after I've swallowed my last one, but the vibration from my phone had caught my attention. Placing down the muffin in-hand, I snatch my phone from my pocket to see what's the reason of the vibration. Turns out Ethan had messaged, that makes me glance at the door and back to my phone.
Ethan: I'm at your front door. Open up.
Was he the one knocking earlier? Why didn't he knock again? If I pretend to be asleep, would he go away? No, I can't do that to my best friend. Plus, he had something I need for a future theater act, and I also need him to do me a favor.
Me: Oh yeah, if you're really at my front door, shout something Ethan normally would shout.
I don't have trust issues when it comes to Ethan, but this is one of those opportunities to mess with him. Just the image of Ethan screaming something in the hallway while my neighbors are having their peaceful morning is somehow funny. Chuckling, I stood up from the couch and meander my way to open the door.
"Vydor, I hope you chock on your muffins!" Ethan's familiar voice made me stop in my tracks while my hand was about to open the door for him. Out of context, the word "muffins" would have a different meaning. Luckily, everyone person in this building are familiar with Ms. Jess' muffins. No, no, wait, that sounded wrong. I meant the muffins baked by Ms. Jess.
When I flung the door open to see Ethan's face, he has this wide mischievous grin flashing it at me. "You're an asshole," I step back from the door to let him walk in.
"What? You're the one who messaged me to shout something I would normally shout." He coats his voice with some innocence, but I could still hear the amusement. "Plus, you took too long to open the door, so I have resulted to shouting by your door."
"Again, you're an asshole." I head back to where I was sitting on the couch and continue my journey on devouring the muffin I've already taken a bite.
When Ethan followed me on the couch, he immediately reaches for some muffins in the basket without my permission. I would normally act selfish when it comes to this scrumptious muffins, but he's my best friend. He's an exception. "I still can't believe Ms. Jess gave you a basket filled with her home-baked muffins."
Should I confess to him that it was my sudden breakdown in my car that made me have this basket of muffins? No, I don't think I will confess that to him. It was just a harmless breakdown, no one got hurt, and I've recovered easily from it. "To be fair, yesterday was my birthday... So free muffins," Also a free quick trip to breakdown island, but he doesn't need to know that.
Ethan had already devoured the muffin he had picked up from the basket, and here I am still having my first muffin. He was about to reach another muffin from the basket, but stop dead in his tracks when his eyes noticed the letter on the coffee table. Oh, he had noticed that already. I was hoping to have a little more small talk before asking him that favor. "Is that the letter I've told you to write for Gail?" He tries to pick the letter from the coffee table, and I have this sudden urge to slap his hand away from it.
Which I did slap his hand away from it, since it's a private thing between me and Gail. "Yes, you don't have to read it," but that warning is a bit futile since he'll be the one taking this letter to a post office and I bet he'll read the letter when he had a great distance from me. "So, I'm going to ask you a favor to bring this letter to the post office on your way to work." I quickly glance down at the letter to check if I've already addressed the letter to Gail's childhood home. When I saw the familiar address, I can't help but to smile.
A heavy hand lands on my shoulder and abruptly stopped smiling at the letter and gazes at Ethan. "Have some little hope. Maybe once this letter reached her, she'll reach out for you and you'll finally have your happy ending."
Surprisingly, I believed Ethan. For the first time, I felt the same optimism he's giving me. "Thanks, for the optimism," I pat his hand on my shoulder before taking another bite from my muffin.
He also grabbed another one and took one massive bite before realization dawned on his expression. Putting down his muffins, he turns to reach for something in his bag. Seconds later, he pulls out a book from his bag and hands it to me. "That's the book I was talking about yesterday. Read it and tell me what you think about it making a theater version of this story, so I could email the authors and see if they approve."
The book is surprisingly thick. For a moment, I actually thought this book is a biography or something, but upon reading the title, it doesn't give me a sense that it's a biography. Love, Poetry, and Coffee—written by D. L. Cal & Constance Elliot. The title does look lovely and sweet, but if I remember what Ethan had told me yesterday; this book has a tragic ending. "I'll read it as soon as I can and tell you what I think," this better be a good because if not, I'll be disappointed on Ethan's taste.
He points a finger at my direction while his other hand drag a muffin into his mouth, "You better read it as soon as possible." Once he had devoured his muffin, he took another one from the basket. "Okay, I have to go to work. Thanks for the muffins." He grabs the written letter on the coffee table and shove it carefully into his bag. "Don't worry, I'll send this to the post office on my way to work."
I don't have to worry about Ethan forgetting to give the letter to the post office. He's always up to whatever task he'd been given, and he will not forget to do stuff. "Thanks for that, Ethan," I stare down at my second muffin in-hand, contemplating whether to give Ethan the entire basket of muffins. I don't usually have a heavy breakfast, and I certainly wouldn't finish every muffin in the basket. With a sigh, I grab another muffin and hand the rest to Ethan. "Here, take it with you."
He switches his gaze between me and the basket as he stood up from the couch, "Are you sure? I noticed you haven't eaten that much since I got here."
I wave his concern tone and expression, "It's fine. A heavy breakfast ain't really for me. Consider this as an appreciation gift for the things you've done to me, Ethan."
A small smile lifts on the corners of his lips as he reaches for the handle of the basket. "Thanks, Vy. But just so you know, I'm not going to share some with Favian. Stella; on the other hand, I might share some muffins with her, but if I found out that she's been sneaking some muffins for her husband, I'll snatch the basket away from them."
We both let out a hearty chuckle while he meanders his way back to the door. Before he could exit out my threshold, an idea popped in my mind. I call out his name, making his hand stop in the middle of reaching the doorknob. "Why not share some with Mel?"
He gives me a quizzical look, "Mel?"
I didn't fight the urge to roll my eyes at him. Of course, he doesn't know Mellisa's nickname. "Mellisa, the receptionist."
For a moment, he kept staring blankly at me, but seconds later it finally dawns on him. "Oh, Mellisa! Sure, I'll share some muffins with her. I wouldn't finish all these by myself." On that note, he finally twist the doorknob and swing open the door. He exits out my home, and my appreciation for him got even stronger when he insists on closing the door as he goes.
A smile forms on my face. If I don't have any chance on finding my happy ending, at least I'm giving Ethan a chance on his happy ending.