Three mugs for three people

It isn't a good day. He is in two minds whether to ride or to drive. He chooses the former, when neither of the choices has any appeal left in it. He wonders if the heat means anything in itself. It just slows him down. But there are thoughts rotating with the pedals. The web of mundanity rattles him. He trembles when it occurs to him, he might be a cyclist. There are whims he wishes to indulge in.

Blinking yellow lights feebly dot the dullness of a wasted sun's last rays. Sensations are few and far between in a very busy day. There are unprecedented plans for the following week which shall rattle him no end. Solutions are sought.

Even Samuel Barber is distorted with cheering and commentary. Some days the limits are reached easily. Muteness is temporary, but he chooses it.

It is the 30th day without comments. Tomorrow they shall be enabled again.