Good morning!!!

"What an incredibly strange feeling it is when, trying to hum a well-known song, you can only manage to choke out the first few words, and the rest of the lyrics consist of nothing but rhythm, melody, and all sorts of lalalala!" Hubert thought immediately after singing the words "I love you, babe!" Hubert, however, didn't worry about it too much and moved forward as soon as the streetlights changed from red to green. Instantly, a stream of pedestrians rushed across the white-scarred asphalt, among which Hubert stood out as if he were, at the very least, naked. Compared to the rest of the crowd, he didn't rush forward for fear of brushing against another person, but rather covered the distance at a leisurely pace, humming to himself and jumping slightly with unconcealed glee.

"Let's think about it," he said to himself. "Last night I had an argument with my wife. It started out rather typically. Typical for the last few months." Because for some time now, we've been arguing almost every evening. But it was only yesterday that the state of our marriage was so clearly reflected in our tableware, the bedside lamp, and the painting that reflected the flying vase of flowers. I spent the night on the couch. Not for the first time.

"Excuse me," a familiar voice interrupted his stream of thoughts. "Do you have any spare change? I didn't eat breakfast today, and it was quite a few hours ago." Hubert slowly turned on his heel to see the owner of that incredibly hoarse voice, which, with its terribly distinct note of cunning humor, wouldn't let him go unanswered.

"Perhaps you have a piece of bread?" Hubert looked at his interlocutor thoughtfully. And it must be admitted that the gulf between them was enormous. The poor man, dressed in a worn, grayish, and muddy suit, tennis shoes, and too-short trousers, seemed no smaller or worse than the twenty-seven-year-old standing next to him, dressed in a white shirt, tie, and shiny black shoes. The young man, because he looked truly young next to the graying bum, also carried a briefcase and a jacket. The afternoon was exceptionally hot, and even the shadows of the surrounding New York skyscrapers didn't help.

"I have some change if you want," Hubert said, trying to wipe the sweat from his forehead and reach into his pocket.

"It's giving quite a good deal, isn't it," the homeless man asked.

"What?" he asked, as if without hesitation

. "The sun. It's been beating down like this for a week, and not a single cloud," the bum said, looking up at the sky, covering his forehead, wrinkled by the glare, with his hand.

"Is that enough?

" "Sure. God bless you. Have a good day," the homeless man shouted as he left, cheered by the alms.

-Have a nice day.

Hubert moved on. Actually, he felt like eating too. It was already 3:14 PM, which meant it was high time for lunch. He was near the diner where he usually ate. So he ran across the busy street and stood in front of the diner's door. There was nothing about it that distinguished it from other establishments of its kind, but Hubert had never once gotten sick after eating there. It was a virtue that would be foolish to ignore. The opening door rattled the previously inert bell, which announced the arrival of another customer with its "jingle jingle." Behind the counter, an elderly man in a chef's hat and apron was taking orders. He was working overtime to keep up with giving orders to the cooks, hurrying the waitresses, and taking orders from customers. Even though there were only two girls in the room and the number of customers could be counted at most fifteen, the commotion at the bar was inhuman. Seeing Hubert, the older man smiled recognizingly and asked before he could approach the counter.

"Today's Wednesday, pancakes as usual?"

"Yes, why not," he replied confidently, as this place and its customs seemed particularly familiar to him. "

We'll serve them soon," he added

. Hubert sat down in a corner of the room, where it was no longer so noisy. However, a buzzing sensation rose in his mind. In place of the previously blissful cheerfulness, uncertainty crept in, and he wondered why he was so cheerful. Trying to recall a few hours back, he realized he'd spent the entire day wandering around, sitting on a park bench, and generally taking various walks. However, returning to the morning became exceptionally difficult, as he realized that around ten o'clock his memory had set up an insurmountable barrier. His further thoughts were interrupted by the waitress pouring coffee into a glass and placing a plate of pancakes on the table. He then turned to his food. It didn't take long, however. His phone rang loudly in his pocket. He reached for it and, trying not to let the pieces of pancake with fruit fall out of his mouth, answered.

"Where are you, man?!" a familiar, furious voice said over the receiver. "Do you even realize what time it is?" Hubert couldn't even utter a word like "I'm listening" or "Good morning," let alone respond. "

The tax office is on our hands because His Lordship overslept and forgot to take the waste paper to the bank. "

"Sorry," he replied, confused as he remembered the voice. It was Tom, his partner.

"Man, what's wrong with you?" You called this morning to say you'd be late, but you never showed up." Hubert instinctively glanced at his watch.

"There's no point in you coming now, we're closing the office in an hour anyway." The caller anticipated Hubert's thoughts.

"I'm sorry."

"I'm just asking you not to screw up like this tomorrow; we'll finally finalize the transaction. And check your phone. I couldn't reach your house or your cell phone. See you tomorrow." The caller cut the call off before Hubert could say goodbye.

After a moment, he went back to finishing his meal. Throughout the conversation, he'd been turning over a small piece of paper, a business card, or something similar. Now, as he returned to his thoughts, even more chaos descended upon his mind. He was a meticulous man, precise and punctual. He wasn't late, and he didn't mess up. He was usually the one who criticized others for being inconsiderate. Before he knew it, the paper had turned into a neat roll. Just as he was scooping up the last pieces of pancake from his plate with a fork, the phone rang a second time. He quickly answered, fearing it might be someone from work again. But it wasn't.

"Mr. Hubert?" came the voice of a man who sounded as if he had a toothpick in his teeth. "I'm calling from the Hermes shipping company to remind you that we have an appointment today."

"Excuse me, could you repeat what this is about?" Hubert asked in a confused voice.

"Well, you called us this morning about transporting furniture to the landfill. And you told us to call back this afternoon to remind you." Hubert noticed that what he was holding was a business card from that very company, with the time 6:00 PM written in pen

. "We'll be there around 6:00 PM, okay."

"Yes, yes. Everything's fine. I'll be waiting," he replied, confused.

"Goodbye .

" "Goodbye

." This isn't so great anymore. He had no idea why he needed a moving company. He was lost in it all because he couldn't recall the morning, which was a complete memory hole. But the worst part was that he had planned it all himself. As if he had hatched a plan beforehand, before or during that memory hole, knowing what would happen next. He paid for the meal and stepped out into the street. He hoped the breath of fresh air would dispel at least a few of his doubts, but he was wrong. It was even hotter outside than inside, and the stench of exhaust fumes seemed to suffocate him at first, preventing him from taking a single deep breath. Before his mind could focus on where he should go next, however, his phone reminded him once again of its presence. It wasn't another call, or even a text message. The reminder function had activated. Hubert deftly turned off the alarm and wiped his sweaty forehead with his hand. The phone read: 'Don't forget to buy plastic bags, Domestos, rubber gloves, and a mop.' "

Fuck!" he cursed. "

I'm going crazy," he added, now less angry and more desperate and shaken.

He put his phone away and started walking. He instinctively glanced at his watch. He decided to visit a nearby store. He concluded that, despite everything, he would need these things for some reason. He hurried through the store as quickly as he could. He bought what he needed and headed home. He was incredibly tense. Cool, pearly sweat broke out on his forehead, and at times, shivers ran through his body. But strangely enough, as he reached his neighborhood, all negative feelings vanished, replaced by a sense of peace. It came to pass that for the second time that day, Hubert felt an unusual, blissful joy. When he reached the door, he paused for a moment. He bowed his head and smiled faintly. "This is paranoia," he thought. The whole absurdity suddenly seemed like a strange dream. He smiled again, and the song that began with the words "I love you, babe" once again came to his mind. He even remembered it playing on the radio as he left the house. He felt as if the veil in his memory were beginning to lift. He entered the house. It was cool and filled with a very delicate, crisp twilight. He placed his briefcase and groceries on the sideboard, took off his shoes, and hung his jacket on the coat rack. He walked slowly down the hall toward the bathroom. He was calm. In the large, airy bathroom, he walked to the sink, removed his wedding ring, and turned on the water. He washed his hands slowly. With strange thoroughness. It was as if he had fallen into a trance, as if he had fallen asleep for a moment. It didn't last long. He dried his wet hands with a towel and slowly turned on his heel toward the bathtub. Suddenly, the conspiracy of silence in his mind shattered, the wall that had obscured the morning's events fell. His wife lay dead in the bathtub. Hubert collapsed like a felled tree to the ground. He began to pant and sweat profusely. His heart was beating at an incredible rate. He lifted his trembling head to see his wife's bloody hand sticking out from behind the bathtub. He fell again. He suddenly realized what had happened. His fragile mind had been denying this brutal truth for several hours, so the shock was immense. It lasted a moment longer. Then he rose limply and headed for the hallway to get some groceries. He returned immediately and said with a faint smile, putting on yellow rubber gloves:

"Well, honey, we need to clean up a bit and get you into the closet before the gentlemen arrive.