The Daily Life Novels & Stories

I was right in the middle of writing a sentence when my phone rang. The writing was not really important, it was just some notes for a small article someone had asked me to look over. The kind of work that helped my regular life look normal from the outside. I have been doing more of that recently. Keeping up appearances, making sure the everyday parts of my world still seemed real. His name lit up the screen.

The chapter was about the daily things. Not the events — the novel had never been about events. The tenth chapter was about the specific accumulation of daily things that, when taken together, were the whole life: the coffee made before waking, the cup set outside the study door, the garden walked in the morning and the evening, the letters answered, the dinners cooked, the coastal path walked in every weather, the conversations that were about nothing and therefore about everything. The chapter said: the daily things were not the background of the life. They were the life. The events — the network, the proceedings, the publications, the documentaries — were the weather. The daily things wer

It was a beautiful day, everyone clocked to their private life. As the clock ticks so does many things happen, but who knows what can happen under two seconds is enough to kill someone, as the saying goes, don't joke with time, its an ageless master.... Ben and his brothers hasn't disturbed the girls for three days, and they must admit, without daily drama, life is boring. But when you have the right people around you, you would even value the air you breath in that sustains you.

My life had fallen into a routine. Even at work, I didn’t go out of my way for anything anymore. Didn’t eat at restaurants, unless it was for a work-related meeting. I didn’t take walks. Didn’t meet new people. I didn’t even go to the gym? Why would I need to when I had one at home? Every day was the same. Wake up, work, eat, work, go home, eat, work out, sleep. No variation was needed. My life had lost some of its color, and now I was walking around in black and white.

Lila’s POV It was a regular day at work as usual; attended to patients when needed, avoid familiarity with my colleagues, talked when I was required to, and avoided unnecessary drama. That’s how I live, so you could say my life was an ordinary one. But deep down in my ordinary life lies traumas, hidden from the world—pains buried deep within my soul.

I said. "This should be fine! Thanks!" He said looking like he'd won the lottery. "I'll get us some breakfast, you ok with bacon and eggs," I said. "Yes, that sounds great," he said. It had been a while since I'd had a partner or a roommate so having someone to share breakfast with was a nice change. While I enjoyed living alone and being able to do whatever I wanted whenever I wanted, I did miss sharing a meal and the day-to-day interactions of living with someone.

The dinner was going in peace but not once Alizey glanced his way who was sitting beside her, enjoying her situation all to well. "The food is amazing." Issac grumbled eating like a starved man as Jack and Yasir hummed in response. Asad was sitting beside Muskan on his baby chair. "So Zee how's education going?" Jack asked. "It's going good Akhi but difficult but not something I can't handle." She replied softly. "Is anyone in for a movie night?" Issac mumbled chewing his food. "Vicious wolf one?" Alex mumbled making the three girls to cough hysterically at the same time.

She lived from the heart, lived with every fiberShe hadn’t always done it, though. After her favorite people had done it, Helen too had given up life, as if it were a low-paid job. Death is a funny thing. When someone dies, the sun rises the next morning, as if nothing has happened, and punctually it sets again at night. Even though someone is dead, the train platforms are just as busy as before. Someone has died, and the people simply go on with their daily lives. They meet up with loved ones in the evening, and continue to complain about the coffee that burns their lips, the boss who won't give them a break, the partner who almost suffocates them with love.

What I can't tell my mother I tell my grandmother because she is so much more understandable and she is always of good advice. Our life is worth what it cost us in effort. What is life? A delirium. What is life? A shadow, an illusion, and the greatest of goods are hardly counted. Yes, all of life is a dream, and dreams themselves, what are they? Dream!We are all resigned to death; it is to life that we cannot resign ourselves to, the root of the problem is that humans stop at the superficial side of what is life, I know it and I feel it there ' has a lot more than that, and I want to live it, I want to live happy days, when I see other people laughing out loud and going out, having relations

"Though as entertaining this is, the affairs of the still living are none of my concern. You'll have to speak to my opposite; Life." "So how do I find Life?" I asked, and Death shrugged, twirling his scythe as if it were a baton. "No clue. I deal with matters of death." "...you're of no help, you know that?" "I've upheld my deal, so I think I've helped way more than necessary. I'm just glad I didn't go fishing for your soul. Otherwise, I would've declined." My jaw drops at his comment, and he shrugs, fading away.