A case against the constant pursuit of change and new experiences
The chiming of the doorbell announces the sister duo. Five minutes past ten, the mid-morning hour, and the wheels of the daily grind are gradually, reluctantly, creaking into motion. The more forward sibling greets me with a barely intelligible “Good morning.”
Half embarrassed, I growl a muffled greeting in return and spin on my heel, retreating back into the depths of what occupied me before the disturbance. For the remaining hours that occupy them as they pad noiselessly about the house, the youngsters shall conduct conversation with only the mistress of the house.
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