𝓡𝓮𝓭 𝓛𝓲𝓵𝔂

𝓒𝓗𝓐𝓟𝓣𝓔𝓡 𝓞𝓝𝓔

𝓢𝓱𝓪𝓻𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓢𝓹𝓪𝓬𝓮

⌘ ❦ ⌘

L I N G L I N G

       I WOKE BEFORE the digital clock on my bedside table had a chance to chime, a testament to my internal alarm clock’s precision. The room was still steeped in twilight, with the first light of dawn just beginning to seep through the sheer white curtains framing the window.

As I stretched and sat up, the cool air grazed my skin, making me tighten my robe around me.

My gaze landed on the veterinary textbook that still lay open on my bed, its pages dense with detailed illustrations and notes on canine anatomy, a silent evidence to the demanding yet rewarding work awaiting me at the clinic. I sighed, realizing I had forgotten to return it to my study the night before. I closed the book, the faint rustle of paper breaking the morning silence, and placed it on the nightstand, ensuring it aligned perfectly with the edge.

Slipping into my slippers, positioned precisely at the foot of my bed, I padded to the bathroom. The soft click of the light switch brought the room into sharp focus, creating a bright, clinical glow reminiscent of my workplace. My toothbrush stood in its holder, flanked by a neatly arranged array of toiletries. I picked it up, squeezed a line of toothpaste onto the bristles, and began my brushing routine, the minty flavor gradually awakening me.

As I continued my morning ritual, my thoughts began to organize the day ahead.

The morning would be filled with routine check-ups, followed by a ten o’clock surgery—a delicate procedure on an aging Golden Retriever with a complex leg fracture. The case had been on my mind since yesterday, and now, the thought of it sharpened my focus. Surgery, especially intricate ones, required exactitude and calm.

In the afternoon, I had a consultation scheduled with a client concerned about her elderly cat’s declining health. The responsibility of providing comfort and care in an animal’s final years weighed heavily on me.

The day would end with a meeting with a new supplier—an exercise in negotiation, but essential to ensuring my four-legged patients received the best care possible.

With my phone in hand, I descended the stairs, each step a rhythmic tap against the polished wood that echoed through the quiet house. My thumb scrolled through emails and notifications, but my mind was already focused on the day’s responsibilities at the clinic.

At the bottom of the stairs, I paused to take in my living room. The space combined minimalist elegance with modern comfort. The black leather sofa, adjoined by white cushions, faced a glass coffee table that held nothing but a neat stack of coasters and a single black-and-white art book. The room exuded calm and order, with every detail meticulously chosen, mirroring the balance I sought in both my personal and professional life.

I walked past the well-arranged furniture to the corner, where my large aquarium rested against one wall, its soft blue glow gently illuminating the room. The sight always brought a subtle smile to my face, a brief moment of peace before the day’s demands took over.

As I approached the tank, my eyes were drawn to the vibrant colors of the fish, a striking contrast to my otherwise monochromatic aesthetic. The gentle hum of the filter and the soft bubbling of the water greeted me like an old friend, their sounds soothing in the morning stillness. My aquatic friends glided gracefully through their miniature underwater world, their movements a mesmerizing ballet that held my gaze.

I tapped the glass gently, watching as the fish darted toward the surface, eager for their breakfast. “Good morning, everyone,” I murmured, opening the small container of fish food. The familiar scent of the flakes, earthy and slightly briny, wafted up. I sprinkled a measured amount into the water, the tiny particles drifting down like confetti, quickly consumed by the enthusiastic swimmers.