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The day was hard to start. Despite the doorbell that rang four times that morning. Despite all-working flatmates who bravely ventured into the new day and by the very fact of it were calling to my not-burdened-with-work conscious. Despite all the messages that came on my phone and the one that did not.

I just hugged my pillow tighter, turned away from the window side and squeezed my fluffy moose under my stomach. I was stubbornly refusing to accept the very fact of the sun shining outside and indifferently proclaiming a very certain beginning of the new day. I wondered how long I would be able to ignore the fact.

Half-conscious as I usually appear right upon awakening I could clearly realize the reason for the frustration. I literally sensed the vacuum that had been spreading around me and by now has taken its ultimate shape and reached its horribly overwhelming size. My traineeship that has finished, my sister who kept me busy after (and happily ignorant of the vacuum) and has left now…my this and that as weel this and that which is not mine any more… As much as aware of the fact that a thrilling full-fledged stuffing would come to fill in the vacuum as much I was in pain. I do not know which feeling overtakes after a burn – suffering because the old skin has gone or anticipating the new one to grow.