Robin had always been a creature of habit. For the last couple of years, his life had turned into a routine of waking up, drag himself to his tedious job, come home exhausted, sleep, and repeat.
He had grown so consumed by that kind of routine that he forgot what it felt like to live and enjoy life anymore.
The days just overrun into one another, marked only by the occasional weekend when he would fall into his bed and be too tired to enjoy a moment of leisure. He had started to think that this was all there was to life-that he was condemned to spend his days bogged in this unending circle, losing himself piece by piece on the way.
But today was different. Today, he had done something that he never thought he would do-he had quit his job. It wasn't a rash decision, but one that had been fermenting inside him for months: the constant stress, unending demands, and a feeling of life slipping through his fingers. He had always thought of resignation but kept his thoughts hidden in , unsure if he had the courage to do it. Finally, the breaking point came when he realized he could no longer stand the suffocating office environment. And now, for the first time in what felt like forever, he had a whole day to himself.
The silence of his apartment was deafening. No emails to check, no meetings to attend, just him and the four walls of his small, cozy space. The quiet felt unfamiliar, almost unnerving. He stood in the middle of his living room, feeling an overwhelming sense of freedom that was both thrilling and terrifying. There was no plan for the day, no obligations, no sense of urgency pulling him in any direction. For someone so used to being on autopilot, this newfound freedom was unsettling, but also exhilarating.
With no clear idea of what to do next, he wandered into the kitchen. It was a place he had barely visited, except for grabbing a quick bowl of instant noodles or heating a ready-to-eat meal. The cabinets were filled with neglected ingredients, items he had bought with the intentions to cook but never had the time or energy to cook. Today, something stirred within him, bringing him toward the stove. He rummaged through the shelves, pulling out forgotten cans and jars from pantry, quickly realizing most of it was expired or spoiled. A quick glance around revealed the need for fresher supplies, so he slipped on his shoes and headed to the nearest shop to buy some vegetables and meat.
He took his sweet time to shopping and looking around the mall. He picked up fresh veggies and meat also picked up a case of bear.
Back home, he started cooking, something he hadn’t done properly in months, if not years. The rhythmic chop of the knife, the sizzle of meat hitting the pan, and the aroma of garlic and spices filled the air. He found himself smiling—an unforced, genuine smile, something that had become a rarity in his life. There was something deeply satisfying about creating a meal with his own hands, something so simple yet so rewarding. As he moved around the kitchen, preparing a stir-fry with rice and a medium-rare steak, he felt a calmness settle over him.
When the meal was ready, he sat down at the small dining table, the warmth from the food wafting up toward him. He took a bite, savoring the flavors. It wasn’t anything fancy, but it didn’t need to be. Each bite was a reminder of how little pleasure he had allowed himself in recent years, how he had been running on empty, neglecting even the simplest joys in life. He ate slowly, appreciating not just the taste of the food, but the moment itself—the stillness, the quiet, the absence of stress or worry.
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For the first time in a long while, Robin felt at peace. The world outside could wait. For now, he was content in his own company, rediscovering the joy in the little things. As he finished his meal and leaned back in his chair, a deep sense of satisfaction settled over him. This was just the beginning. There was a whole life waiting for him beyond the confines of his old routine, and he was ready to embrace it.
As Robin cleared the dishes and allowed himself to relax, the weight of the last few months-arguably years-slowly melted away. Free from the pressures that usually haunted him, his body seemed to exhale tension it had been sustaining for so long. Full in the belly and a heart with which a load was just starting to lighten, he went on to the couch, shutting his eyes, and before he knew it, he was fast asleep.
The next morning, Robin woke up to the sound of birds song and sunlight streaming through the curtains. For the first time in years, he hadn’t been jolted awake by the blaring sound of his alarm clock or the sound of traffic outside his window. There was no rush, no pressure to leap out of bed and prepare for another stressful day at the office. He stretched lazily, savoring the comfort of his bed and the thought that, for once, he had nowhere to be.
He got up slowly, feeling the soft morning light on his face as he made his way to the kitchen to brew a cup of tea. He took his time, measuring the tea leaves carefully, waiting for the water to boil, watching the steam rise as the tea steeped. With the cup in hand, he walked to the balcony and stepped outside. The morning air was fresh and cool against his skin, a sharp contrast to the stuffy office air he had grown used to. He took a deep breath, filling his lungs with the crisp air, and felt the tension that had knotted in his shoulders for years begin to loosen.
From his balcony, Robin watched the city wake up: runners in the park, an elderly couple walking their dog, parents ushering children off to school. The city was alive now, had always been alive and vibrant; he had simply been too blind to notice it. The streets he had run through without the slightest consideration now looked full of stories, full of lives entwined in ways he had previously never imagined.
After finishing his tea, he decided to go for a walk, something he hadn’t done in ages without a destination in mind. He threw on a pair of trousers and a t-shirt, locked the door behind him, and stepped out into the world. There was a small family run cafe near his apartment that he had always been too busy to enter. Today, he wandered in, ordered a light breakfast, and sat by the window, watching the world pass by. The food wasn’t anything extraordinary, but the simple act of sitting down to a meal, undistracted, felt like a luxury.
He sat down to play one of his favorite video games back home. It had been a while since he had picked up the controller. The game was really known for its toxic community, but Robin had always found the act of playing a release-a way to unwind. Hours flew by as he immersed himself deep in the digital world, losing track of time until his stomach reminded him it was time for lunch.
For lunch, he decided to treat himself to something special. He walked to a fancy restaurant he had passed by countless times but never entered. The host seated him by the window, and as he waited for his meal, he watched the city moving outside. When the food arrived, he took his time, savoring each bite. It wasn’t just the taste—it was the act of eating without a cloud of stress hanging over him. The meal felt indulgent, not because of the price or the ingredients, but because it was a rare moment of peace.
After lunch, Robin continued to explore the city. He went to the theater to watch a play that had been receiving good reviews, something he would never have had time for before. He wandered through a local park, eventually finding a bench near a pond where he sat for a while, listening to the soothing sounds of nature. It felt surreal to have so much time, to not feel the crushing weight of responsibility.
As the sun began to set, Robin made his way back home. The golden glow of the evening light cast a serene hue over the city, making everything feel warm and peaceful. That night, he prepared a simple dinner, ate slowly, and enjoyed every bite. There were no deadlines, no pressure—just him, his thoughts, and the quiet peace of the evening.
Lying in bed, he thought about the day. Some might say it was simple, uneventful even, but to him, it was a much-needed break from the chaos of his former life. Tomorrow, he would visit his grandparents’ house in the countryside, a place that held many memories for him. He hadn’t been there in years, but something in him felt ready to return. Afterward, he would figure out the next steps. For now, though, he was content to let the future unfold at its own pace.