A morning, we noticed, is only six or seven objects long. Everything else is decoration. Below, an inventory of the ones that survived the cull.
01 — The Mug
Wide-lipped, thick-walled, glazed the colour of wet clay. It holds heat for longer than it should, and its weight in the hand is the first honest thing of the day.
02 — The Kettle
A brushed steel gooseneck, chosen because it does one thing without asking questions. There is no light, no sound, no app. It boils and it stops.
03 — The Notebook
Ruled, unruled, it does not matter. What matters is that it is open by the window before the kettle has finished. Three lines a day, unwitnessed.
04 — The Robe
Heavy cotton waffle, cut long enough to sit down in. Worn for the first forty minutes, then hung. Never seen.
05 — The Radio
A small speaker, tuned to a station that plays music we do not know. This is the point. Familiarity would ask something of us.
06 — The Chair
One chair, by one window. Not the best chair in the house. The one that catches the morning.
“Everything else is decoration.”