The morning show

I eat healthily, but every morning when I start work at seven, I park on the hill by the butcher’s and go hunting for a white doughnut. Everyone has their sins. For my colleagues I get chocolate croissants. I have never asked them whether they wanted them. I decided sugar is better before the local news than at the end of the day.

The woman behind the counter knows all the news before we do. While she packs everything into one big paper bag, so nothing gets squashed, she tells me why children start school later these days, which roadworks are on (and nobody announced them!?), what is being marked today, why the bus is late again.

“Put that on the air,” she says, and winks.

I often wonder about the things I supposedly know. Have I missed the day? Should I be out in the field rather than behind her counter?

And while I sit with my doubts, she tells me once again that I look lovely, and less tired today. “Pomalo na delu i lipi dan” – take it easy at work, and have a lovely day. The sentence is always the same. But it always warms me just as much.

By the local news there is not a doughnut or a croissant left. And I have already heard the best morning show.