I'm in the kitchen, my kitchen. The blinding morning light is shining through the glass window, all gold and silver. Everything is quiet, but not an uncomfortable kind of quiet... the kind of quiet that makes one feel at peace with all the world at once. They are all asleep: my parents, my brother... everyone but me: alone, in the quiet kitchen, so bright and so colorful in the early morning light. I'm enjoying myself, I truly am, everything seems so perfect... Wait, I'm enjoying myself? Why am I enjoying myself? I have a strange feeling. Something is telling me I am not supposed to be this happy in the morning, not today at least. However, I am happy and I want to be happy, so I push this bad feeling down all the way to the back of my head, where I let it sit, all caged up, while I do my best to take in every detail of this wonderful moment, this instant of pure and peaceful happiness
My kitchen smells like coffee, freshly squeezed orange juice and home-baked cookies... That’s strange, my kitchen never smells like home-baked cookies unless I'm the one who baked them, and I haven't cooked anything in a while... But that doesn't matter, right? I focus on the wonderful scent, deeply inhaling to take in as much of it as possible, and then exhaling to start all over again. Breathe in, breathe out, breathe in, breathe out, now I feel even better. I can see the neighbor’s cat in my garden, she’s staring at me with those yellow eyes, shimmering in the golden light, probably also enjoying this wonderful instant of life.
My kitchen is exactly the same as always, every piece of furniture sits where it always does, yet everything seems different. For some reason I feel like I’m in a dream, everything is so peaceful and perfect. I have never felt like this when entering my kitchen. You know, my uncle says your soul can travel while you're asleep. Maybe that’s what it is, maybe I am just soul travelling to this wonderful place, only one set of stairs away from my actual body. I don’t know, and to be truly honest, I don’t really trust everything my uncle says, so I might as well go back to the enjoying myself part.
I stare at the black and white pictures on the yellow wall.  We all look so happy in them: my parents on the day of their wedding, me and my brother smiling at each other, as if that ever happened in real life… That’s me again, four years old, after my first dance show, and there I am again, in my Halloween costume. All wonderful instants of my life, captured and freezed in those black and white picture... I wonder how happy I would look if someone took a picture of me now. I’m smiling, that’s for sure, beaming actually, I’ve never been so happy. I try to picture myself in this precise moment, bathed in yellow light and smiling like a baby. That would make a nice picture… Not black and white though, this one would have to be in color.
The table is all set for breakfast, four cereal bowls, four spoons, four napkins… Honey, jam, butter, warm toast... This isn’t normal, I have to make my own toast in the morning, and we never have any butter at home. Well, mom did go to the supermarket yesterday, and, who knows, maybe she woke up and made breakfast for everyone. Where is she though? Oh well, it doesn’t really matter, she’ll be here somewhere…
I look down at my feet. I'm standing in a patch of sunlight and the warmth of the light is soaking through my pajamas, making me feel warm and cozy. The temperature is exactly perfect, not too warm, no to cold. My feet are bare, but the cold marble floor doesn't bother me. However, something else does: that feeling of wrongness, its coming back, digging its way from my cold feet all the way to my head, pushing to get through and break free, pushing to ruin this perfect moment. Why is it back? Nothing is wrong! Nothing except that sound, like a bell, or the ringtone of a mobile phone, or... Wait, that’s not a phone, it’s my stupid alarm clock. Today is Monday and I have a math test first block... Great, I enjoyed those six second of happiness, cheers!