It was often the small stuff that seemed to catch his attention the most--like the way slightly burnt coffee smelled in the morning, or the way a shirt drooped over his body. Even the movement of a weeping tree captivated him. His mundane morning was teemed with little surprises that his curiosity grappled onto.
      
       The steady buzzing of an alarm clock awoke Clark Emerson. He groaned in discomfort and rubbed his crusty eyes. Sitting up, he pushed away his blanket and shook his head. Looking to his left, it read 6:40 A.M on his clock. With not too much thought in his mind, Clark got ready and departed to work.

        Except today, something just bothered him. He couldn’t exactly pinpoint it, but it was there. He recalled a fuzzy conversation he had once with his older sister before she left to another distant city. Clark was six or seven-- perhaps, when it happened. His parents were usually at work so he’d go to his sister when he had problems.

      “Annie, can I ask you something?” he whispered.

      “Whatever it is Clark, it better be a good question. I’m trying to study for a big test tomorrow.” Her sister was rummaging rigorously through her textbook, paying little attention to anything else. 

       “Do you ever wonder if the sun will stop rising?” Clark asked.

        “Clark, do you ever stop and pause to think about how stupid your questions are? Here I am, trying to do something and then you come into my room interrupting me. Please get out.”

        “But Anni-”

        “Shut up.” His sister shoved him out and slammed the door.
      
        Clark stood motionless in his bed for a very long time before snapping back into the present. Those two words echoed in his mind for a very long time. Maybe too long. Clark couldn’t really remember anything else besides that. He slowly got up, changed into his suit, and walked out of his house to catch the morning bus.

         Going aboard, he fished out crumped bills from his pockets to the bus man who then stuffed it into a slot. Clark walked to the back, while being glimpsed at by the sad eyes of other workers like him-sapped of spirit and youth. Sitting down, he looked outside of the bus window in search for some ray of hope, but only saw concrete roads and buildings. What a disappointment.

        It was a gray Monday morning. Cold steel doors stationed at the front of his office did little to welcome him.  Clark’s shoes were still moist with water from the cold rain outside, and they had left behind a dampened trail on the floor as he walked in. His assistant Marie was waiting inside.

          "How are you doing, Clark?” she asked.

         Clark froze, noticing how Marie’s eyes resembled the eyes of his own callous sister. He felt something, the same kind of feeling he had when his sister slammed the door on him. Clark's heart skipped a beat. In panic, he was about to let out a small word of approval like any other person would, until he stopped himself for once.

        An internal battle raged within him. How really was his day? How was his week? How was his life? He paused his lips and thought hard to himself, struggling to think of a legitimate answer.

        Sure, he had money and stability. He didn’t have to worry about other problems like most other people did. But it was so boring...routine. He had thought in the earlier chapters of his life that he'd find satisfaction when he got older.  But here he was now, awkward and speechless with absolutely nothing meaningful to say. What if it was not death, but boredom that would devitalize him? His hunger for dynamics and imagination in the vast world?
 
       Clark shook his head. He was just overthinking this. What was he even doing?

       'You're taking a simple greeting to the ridiculous extreme, snap out of it. Snap out of it!' he commanded himself. Clark just shook his head and looked back at Marie.

       "I'm...alright." He forced a smile with his best efforts, and walked away. Marie sensed a disturbance in his behavior but shrugged it off. ‘It’s nothing problematic’ she thought. Some days just were.