It was a day like any other. Work, coffee, and back to the miserable place I call home. Work, coffee, home. Work, coffee, home. And endless cycle of life that seemed to be inescapable.
I was walking home from my nine to five and stumbled upon an old tattered piece of paper. Not wanting to break the mold of perfect cleanliness my neighbors seemed to have, I quickly tucked the paper into my jacket and walked home just as I would any other day. I got to my door, dropped my keys and dove straight for the paper in my pocket. I was curious as to what was inside. I unfolded the mangy sheet and began reading. I was stunned and confused only three words in. I got up from my chair, grabbed a glass of wine, and continued reading.
My glass was reduced to just drops of merlot, I knew life could never be work, coffee, home ever again.