That morning, I stood rooted to the tiled floor with my hands on the poorly done window grills. I had been examining the structure that we called home. The Sun was lazy, casting weak monotonous rays on the ground. It had sufficiently rained the previous night and the air was still fresh. Since my childhood, I had enjoyed the petrichor, it had a way of pumping life into my dead hopes, and couldn't wait for a few droplets of rain to hit the ground. It was a moment I always craved for. Half past seven in the morning, if not for the birds chirping so melodiously I wouldn't have travelled back to reality. "Normal is boring." I said to myself reaching for my phone that was religiously playing my favorite Bob Marley playlist. Nobody can stop reggae. The tweets that day were not as snappy as I would have wanted. Something was eating me up but still I couldn't figure it out, at least not at a time when Bob was reassuring that things would be alright. Music to me had alway