Afternoon... Through the window you can see a hard shadow that divides the street exactly in half. A single pigeon is wandering around, pecking here and there. Not a single worry in his mind. Wind is rippling through some red flowers, growing in a first floor window - roses, by the first glance, but actually some kind of geraniums.
Nobody is in a hurry this Friday, it seems. People are walking lazily, even a gang of BMX bikers are just cruising by, not bothering to fool around. It's hot. Even for a summer day. The sky is thoroughly cloudless. Solid blue patch, framed by dirty gray of Old Town buildings. A piece of a wire - or a rope - hangs from the rooftop. Another one runs across the street, ending directly above the coffee place.
The stereo is playing Oasis. „Today is gonna be the day...“ strikes a chord. You dig out your not so old, but much abused laptop and start writing. Today is gonna be the day. The day you'll want to remember. Seems like everything is happening. Your brain keeps telling you, that it has all been coming, you've worked hard on that stuff for quite some time. Most of that stuff are not even big things - small and simple ones, even trivial. A colleague calls to confirm a deal that needs your signature. The printer asks to come down for final check on the layout. Plane tickets arrive to your inbox for an upcoming trip. You grab an old picture from the framer. Or a cup of cold coffee from your favorite place. You just can't get rid of that little nagging sense of occasion.
Because you did something in the morning. Not a big thing, a tiny one. A formality, really. A small step in a long walk. Not the last one, not even the first one. But somehow you want to go to the street and shout loudly. Its not a big urge, but its there, somewhere, tainting everything you do. Like a tiny person, sitting on your shoulder, with a clipboard: "He did THIS on the Day. Check. Write in bold letters. Hang on the wall back in his head. Make it large". You don't really want to share this, yet. Not to jinx it. It is a secret.
„Is it really a secret?“ - asks the tiny person in your head. „You've told it to a couple of people already. It's a sure way to make the stuff common knowledge. You know you want to share. Post it on Twitter. Or Facebook. Call someone. Do SOMETHING!“. But you shrug it away. There will be a better time. A more appropriate one. Someday. Just mark the day. And now cast your mind to something else. There is a droplet of water running down on your glass... A bug running on the wall in front.... Maybe get another cup of coffee, a real one this time? "Check. Write in bold letters..."
*2013-06-21. Kaunas Old Town.*