Good Morning — let every morning be kind

Chilini Private

She opened the transom while the house still slept. The kettle took its place on the stove without a second look: that is how she did every weekday, not a holiday. The water had not yet begun to sound when niche fragrance Good Morning Edgardio Chilini was already on her wrist.

She did not say good morning to the room. The words would have been louder than needed. Her heart was quiet. A grey day, like the others. She poured the tea into a flask, closed the door softly so as not to wake anyone, and went out.

Work waited with other people's hurry. She arrived already gathered and explained to no one where the evenness came from. Someone might have taken it for character. It was simpler: she did not leave the morning for later and did not assemble it from arguments.

Evening belonged to the city. Morning she kept for herself — not the sea, not a holiday. An ordinary day she did not ask to be special. She asked only that it begin while the water on the stove was still silent.