I packed lunch at 10 p.m. and felt like tomorrow had already started

Dear Delyara, Bread, fruit, snack, bottle, note, napkin. The same movements, the same quiet midnight administration of childhood. What upset me was not the task. It was the feeling that today had not even fully ended before tomorrow had already entered the kitchen and started asking things from me. I miss evenings that belong only to the day I’ve already survived.