Warm Sunday morning. 11:11 on the clock. Been sitting here since nine sharp. Why can’t I get up, I wonder, as if it doesn’t happen enough times for me to know freezing like this is no surprise. The fatigue of a long past week condensed all at once. I subconsciously try making the feeling of calmness last. And the transition from waking to rising takes its time, it plays by ear, so accordingly I hold back. It’s the reflection of the sun through the blinds that I can’t stop looking at, displayed on the white ceiling like an art installation, is it not? And the ceiling fan spinning nonstop on…