Today, I wake up early in the morning, after a long time. Maybe few months. As I sip my brew my coffee, it's aroma tingles my taste buds. Rusty. Warm. Sweet. I hear the sounds of Azaan from the nearby mosque, and unlike anyone else, it doesn't affect me. Instead, it gives me a feeling of nostalgia. Nostalgia, of the time when waking up early was no less than a torture. It was the time when school hadn't ended. I would wake up and while the coffee brewed, I heard sound of azaan everyday. It was routine, broken and now revived.

I see my boring uniform on which I proudly wore my coat, feeling like a professional. But then I remember, those times are gone, and I must move on. So instead, I slip into bed again. And dream.

- Manisha✒