Today unfolded gently — an asynchronous day, a quiet pause in the week. I woke up with a light mind and a spark of productivity, as if my body already knew it was time to breathe and move. While sitting in stillness, lost in my own quiet thoughts, a simple idea surfaced: What if I clean my room today?
These past days have been a blur — no time to throw out little scraps of clutter, no moment to gather scattered papers, no chance to breathe life back into my space. Busy hours, busy mind. But today, with no sudden online class to pull me away and free time on my side, I chose to finally take care of the mess I had unknowingly learned to ignore.
And so I cleaned — slowly, intentionally. A soft reset.
After my room felt lighter, I moved through the rest of the house, completing chores in silence. My cousin and sibling weren’t home, so the space felt extra still, and somehow, that quiet made the tasks feel almost calming.
With everything in order, I rewarded myself by diving into Good Morning, Rome, the companion to The Day She Said Goodnight. As I turned the pages, memories from the first book came rushing back — vivid, fresh, almost like I had just read it yesterday. In this companion, I finally saw emotions from a new lens; I understood the Female Lead deeper, as if her heartbeat echoed between the lines.
The story was beautiful — gentle, aching, warm.
Yet there was a bittersweet shadow behind it. The author, complicated, problematic. I wanted to support them once, but knowing everything now… it’s disappointing. Heartbreaking, even. How strange it is when a creator dims the light of their own creation.
Still, today felt like soft progress — cleaning clutter, nurturing peace, turning pages that carried old feelings into a new day.
A quiet day, but a meaningful one. And sometimes, that’s enough.