I walked out of the office and saw the silhouette of a majestic dog sitting quietly by the road. Three men stood apart talking as the owner threw out his commands in pride. Towards the junction, a slightly overweight dog crossed my path, caramel shade, it was without an owner but with a collar. Though alone, he showed no signs of loss nor abandonment but walked briskly, bearing the urgency of a young boy returning home after school.

In the bus, a girl behind me chipped non-stop during the eternity of a traffic jam to what seemed like an old friend. Wanted to give her a look when I exited but her face was way too endearing.

Back home, I was startled to find a major transformation when a parrot sits in the spot the hamster once resided. Apparently of African origins, the yellow and grey bird reminds me of paintings I did back in primary school, like a misfit of colours, unkempt edges and odd proportions.

After my shower, I unveiled dinner that was left for me and it hit me that my mother makes the best soup ever. It was chicken and winter melon soup today, sometimes it was potato and carrot or corn, simple dishes but the taste makes the days' struggles worthwhile. Besides, parsley makes anything smell good. Accompanied by other home cooked delight, these meals will be the ones I remember the most.

Right now, its time for bed.

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