19

Today was not something as it always was. It seemed, while I was eating dinner, that everything felt nothing. Everything tasted like water, though I was putting an effort to eat more - one cup of rice after the other; one piece of dimsum, still nothing. It was as if this day was a copycat of the other days before this, and I didn’t believe I was eating a lot. I suspected that I was eating it the same way I ate dinner meals a hundred times, and I tasted it a hundred times the same way as before. But I missed something or someone. I totally missed that person or thing which I used to notice effortlessly. Sundays are without it or him or her, which used to complete my day.