The coffee machine is still on.

Coffee tastes better when no one is looking.

The cup is still there.

The silence after the kettle boils is always a moment of truth.

Some truths are better left unsteeped.

My tea remains lukewarm.

I should probably reheat it.

Still, the evening's too short to bother.

And another one of those days where I've done nothing but watch the wall.

I think the wall's getting used to me.

The wall and I are becoming old friends, judging by how little I've moved today.

I wonder if the wall would notice if I actually did move someday.

The wall and a few dust particles are probably the only witnesses to my life's most significant decisions.

I wonder if they'd notice if I repainted it.

Still wondering.

Maybe the answer lies in the paint itself.