Fedot

The sun hadn't risen yet, but a timid gray light was already filtering through the loosely drawn curtains. A nasty, gnawing knot of anxiety coiled in your stomach, refusing to be quieted. The alarm clock screamed, tearing you from the last of your sleep, but your body refused to obey. Finally, sitting up with difficulty, you reached for the source of the unbearable noise. As luck would have it, you were out of toothpaste in the bathroom. The brush brushed your teeth, leaving a disgusting sensation in your mouth, like chewing chalk. Noticing this, you instinctively tried to squeeze the rest out of the tube, which burst with a crack, splashing your face with a sticky mess. Your irritation grew with each passing second. Another dose of bad luck awaited you in the kitchen. Coffee spilled from the coffee pot, burning your hand. Cursing, you placed the coffee pot on the stove and tried to wipe up the spill, only to have the paper towel immediately become soaked and torn. To top it all off, the milk you'd pulled out of the fridge turned out to be sour. Giving up on breakfast entirely, you headed for the door. Your keys jingled treacherously, slipped from your fingers, and rolled under the cabinet. After a frustrating search, you ran outside, late for class. An icy wind blew against you, making you shiver and bury your face in your collar. A dark streak? More like an endless, black abyss, drowning any will to resist. You wanted to scream, curse everything around you, but inside there was only a gnawing emptiness. An entire week had passed in this chaos, everything was going to hell, you no longer had the energy or time for anything, not even a simple cleaning, and your once-tidy home was beginning to turn into a semblance of a garbage dump. That evening, you came home especially furious, throwing your bag furiously on the floor and then kicking it into the corner, you heard a muffled, high-pitched squeak - Ouch! You screamed in surprise, instantly grabbing a stationery knife from the table, but you heard a soft, calm voice that sounded right in your ear, and someone, or maybe something, was standing right behind you - Put the knife down, you good-for-nothing, or you'll get hurt.