writing
He woke up slowly, tossing and turning in the bed sheets, savoring the last few moments of peace before the long day ahead of him. He finally opens his and and peers and the alarm clock. 6:37, it says. Way too early for his taste.
Walking out to the kitchen in his bathrobe, the world flickers for a second and then returns to a quasi normal state. This feeling always reminds him of a CRT monitor, whose refresh rate is set too low. Only caffeine can help when he feels this way, so he grinds some beans and pours the remains into the coffee maker. Fifteen minutes later, the world is back to it’s correct refresh rate, and he is standing on the deck watching the sun rise.