Mornings

Admittedly, this isn’t really fiction. More an observation. I’m filing it under ‘ideas to explore more later’ — at which point it will hopefully become a proper story.

---

I wake up in the morning, stretch, and reach for my phone. My dog glares at its glow — he knows that means breakfast will be late. I open my emails, intending to only check for anything important. But then I get distracted.

A writer I follow has posted an update.

A shop I should unsubscribe from has announced a sale.

The local member for parliament has sent out a newsletter, and I feel obligated to catch up on the issues affecting my area.

An hour or two later, I’m running late for work. My eyes hurt, and there’s the faintest itch of a headache forming behind my eyebrows. My brain is full of a dozen random facts and another dozen problems I can’t do anything about. My thoughts are soup, the peace I gained in sleep obliterated by the bombardment of breaking news and soul-sucking inanity.

I start my day feeling like I’ve already done a full day of work.