Weight of Ordinary Days
The morning arrived the way it always did—without announcement, without mercy. Light slipped through the thin curtains of the apartment, settling on the furniture like a tired guest who knew he would not be noticed. The kettle clicked off in the kitchen. Somewhere down the street, a shopkeeper lifted a metal shutter with a sound that echoed faintly, like the clearing of a throat before speech that never quite came. He stood at the window longer than necessary, mug cooling in his hands, watching the city perform its small rituals. Buses sighed. A woman argued gently into her phone. A boy dragged a schoolbag that was clearly too heavy for him. Nothing extraordinary. Nothing that would make anyone pause and think, this is the day something changes. And yet—he had learned long ago that days like this were often the most dangerous. They were the ones that carried memory without warning. His name, to most people, was Elias Ward. It was a good name. Plain. Forgettable. It fit the life he showed the world: mid-forties, unmarried, no children, a quiet consultant who worked irregular hours and never complained. He rented a modest apartment above a closed-down travel agency, the faded posters in the window still promising destinations that no longer existed. He paid his bills on time. He greeted his neighbors politely, if at all. He did not draw attention. That was the point. Elias finished his coffee, rinsed the mug, and placed it upside down on the rack. The habit came from somewhere—his mother, perhaps, or the first place he lived alone. He couldn’t remember, and that bothered him more than it should have. There were gaps like that now, small missing tiles in the mosaic of his past. Not erased, exactly. Just…quiet.
Disclaimer: This show may contain expletives, strong language, and mature content for adult listeners, including sexually explicit content and themes of violence. This is a work of fiction and any resemblance to real persons, businesses, places or events is coincidental. This show is not intended to offend or defame any individual, entity, caste, community, race, religion or to denigrate any institution or person, living or dead. Listener's discretion is advised.Less
