Pancake Sunday

Pancake Sunday

One of those sundays...

You know those sundays...

When the night before you were partying until the nightclub's janitor asked you to leave so that he could sweep the dance-floor. When everything outside is closed and you know it, and it's so warm inside. When people wake up late and slowly, one arm sticking out of the cover to catch a laptop. When the rhythm of time in zula is marked by random pointless conversation spaced out by long silences, during which you'd hear the jiggling music of fingers running on keyboards and left-clicks, occasionally right.

That was one of those.