I don’t eat breakfast. Normally I get up, start the shower and pee while waiting for the water to heat up, before shuffling with half closed eyes under the water. Today isn’t much different, bar the fact that while in the shower my mind is acutely aware of the homemade bread waiting for me on the kitchen counter. Normally, dressed, laptop slid into bag, I leave. From alarm to exit, the process takes around 20 minutes. Normally I’d be on my bicycle now.
Today I am buttering a bread roll that I found hanging on the handle of my apartment door when I got home yesterday. And I’m smiling. And I’m excited.
I take the toaster down from on top of the fridge. I spread jam, and when the kettle has boiled I pour water into the coffee press, put on the plunger and take my rare breakfast into the living room. I open my laptop and read an email confirming a table for two at 7:30pm on Wednesday 16th of March. Tomorrow.
The flashing orange lights of a road sweeper glide passed my window.
And I’m smiling. And I’m freaked out. And I’m excited.
I take a big bite out of the bread. I pick up my phone and take a picture. Text it.
I eat, and I look at my phone. I put on my shoes and I look at my phone. I’m walking, and as I edge nearer to my office I am wondering how I can regain my focus?
I go to the canteen and press the button for latte. Somebody says something to me.
I try to transcribe interview footage from my screen, but I have no idea if the subject is saying what I want her to say. I pause. Start again. I watch the time codes tick by but I don’t write any of them down. I pause and start again. Again.
My phone beeps.
Du er sød, the message reads in Danish.
I scroll up to the message that arrived while I was in the shower, In your hands again tomorrow. I like the idea of that.
And I’m smiling. And I’m freaked out. And I’m excited.
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About the author: Alan Emmins (@alanemmins) is a British author and journalist living in Copenhagen. His books are published in the UK, US and Japan.
