It felt weird for five thirty in the morning. Usually five thirty in the morning was a tranquil place to be in. If it’s the Indian summer, the sun has just come out and shone its rays on us, but not hot enough to make us uncomfortable. Birds would have started chirping; there would be the distance sound of footsteps and small talk of all those walking to work through here. There was the slight buzz of their mobile phones and the car alarms of the car they sometimes clumsily touched, which without the blaring car horn seemed more melodious than it actually was.
Had it been the Indian winters, it would have still been dark, but more grey than black. There would be the muffled and even more distant sounds of birds chirping and people walking to work. Unlike the summer, they would all be folded in their sweaters and jackets, not opening their mouths to conserve their body heat. It seemed desolate when you thought about it, but to sit in your balcony and look at it with a cup of hot chocolate always felt relaxing’ a habit to supersede the one’s of comfort and laziness.
Five thirty in the morning is one of those times when the world seems calm and peaceful. All the laws governing our existence in perfect harmony with each other. It seems like such an inviting place, like a scene out of a fairy-tale. Where it is colourful and calm and nothing bad can ever happen. The place to be when you have missed the train to Sleepingsville, either on accident or because the ticket supplier fell asleep on the job. Five thirty is truly the time to be awake at after struggling to get a flicker of sleep the previous night.
But today it feels cataclysmically wrong. It’s another day in June and the world outside my air conditioned room feels like an Inferno. Blazing, scorching rays of hear throwing down on the world. Promising to leave a wake of destruction as it passes by. The world feels at unrest, maybe even more than it ever has been, if that is possible. The atoms striking each other more furiously out of sheer panic. The intensity is making my mind scared, and my forehead sweat.
Five thirty in the morning today feels like the five thirty which deserves to break my consecutive streak of five thirties I’ve been wake at. Today it feels scare, so much so I’m in a secluded room in a corner of the train station, where the entropy tearing the world apart can’t reach me.
This is a random piece of the Experiences of Bedtime story(Click for Part 1). I will be adding a lot of such random pieces for Experiences of Bedtime along with the main parts. The random pieces will not move the story forward, but I aim to provide more insight into the character and the story and also write more pieces for Experiences of Bedtime, because honestly, I love blabbering on and on and on about this story.
I hope you enjoy this story!