Thursday morning felt different from the moment I woke up. The sky was overcast with heavy, brooding clouds that seemed to press down on everything, making it feel cooler than it should for late spring. There was something ominous about the light, or lack of it, that made the whole morning feel unsettled.

I filled my glass with water and flicked on the kettle. Thursday meant cornflakes, the reliable standby that never demanded much thought or preparation. The robin was nowhere to be seen on the bird table or fence, just a quick flash of movement across the garden, gone before I could properly focus on him.

I clicked on the radio as I poured the cornflakes into my bowl, catching what sounded like the tail end of a news report.

"...following last night's joint press conference by Prime Minister Sir Keir Starmer and the rest of the world leaders, the world is in shock that the comet's course is now aimed directly at Earth..."

There was a moment of silence from Gary, unusual for him, as if he was gathering himself, processing what he'd just read out.

After an awkward pause where Gary seemed completely at odds with himself, you could almost hear him forcing his radio persona back into place.

"Right then..." his voice was strained but determinedly upbeat. "It's Thursday, which means it's time for our weekly quiz! And today we have a fantastic prop lamp from the desk of the prison governor in The Shawshank Redemption!"

I added milk to my cereal, watching it swirl around the flakes. The shower was running upstairs, Dave was following his routine as if the world hadn't just learned it might be ending.

"We have Gareth from Tilbury on the line!" Gary's voice had found some of its usual enthusiasm. "Gareth, I understand you're a big fan of the film?"

"Absolutely, Gary. Love that movie."

Gary shifted into his serious quiz-master mode. "Right then, here's your question: What specific item did Andy Dufresne initially ask Red to procure for him?"

Tense music played in the background. Gary even added, "Need an answer from you, Gareth."

"Sorry, I didn't hear the question," Gareth replied.

Gary laughed nervously. "Of course! What specific item did Andy Dufresne initially ask Red to procure for him?"

"Rock hammer!" Gareth answered before Gary had even finished repeating the question.

A fanfare played, and Gary's relief was audible. "You've won! Congratulations!"

"That's great! I need a lamp for my desk," Gareth said, sounding genuinely pleased.

"It'll be with you soon, though I hope you just want it as a prop because it doesn't actually work," Gary replied. "What song can I play for you, my friend?"

There was a pause. "Oh... oh well... oh... well, I'll have 'The Sound of Silence' by Simon & Garfunkel."

As the opening notes began with their familiar greeting to darkness, I turned off the radio, smiling to myself at Gareth's deflated reaction to winning a non-functional lamp. I found myself picking up my phone, staring at a blank text to her. My finger hovered over the screen for a long moment. With news like this, it felt wrong not to reach out somehow. I started typing 'Hope you're doing ok' but stopped. What was the point? She'd made her choice. I deleted it and put the phone down.

That's when I noticed the kitchen tap was dripping steadily into the sink. Of course it was, as if the morning needed another small annoyance. Dave would probably want to tinker with it, which meant I'd better start looking for a replacement tap before he made it worse.

I moved my breakfast to the table just as Dave appeared in the doorway. He looked fresh from his shower but somehow subdued, as if the morning's news had reached him even through his usual morning routine. He carried what appeared to be a glass of apple juice in the most inappropriate glass I'd ever seen - decorated with a picture of a half-naked woman surfing, except she was inexplicably naked from the waist down rather than the more conventional top.

Where on earth Dave found these glasses was yet another mystery for the collection.

He sat down across from me, took a sip of his juice, and looked thoughtfully at my bowl of cornflakes. He nodded towards it with that expression that meant his morning philosophy was about to be shared.

"You know," Dave said, gesturing at my breakfast with the kind of earnestness usually reserved for discussing profound scientific discoveries, "I like to think milk is only white or we'd just think it's funny tasting water."

I threw my spoon down in the bowl of cornflakes, causing milk to splash up onto the table.

"What the fuck, Dave?!"