Jeff is an accountant. Every morning he wakes up to the intolerable drone of his alarm clock. His morning routine is simple. First he opens up the windows in his bedroom to get that morning feel. Sunlight on his face, birds chirping, fresh air and, of course, the beautiful sound of morning traffic. After only a few minutes of this, he finally finds the will to face his morning chores. Brush teeth, put on clothes, swallow breakfast. All go by in a flash, unnoticed, the way such habitual actions tend to be. Briefcase in hand he dashed to catch the train. The ride is only 7 minutes, but he can’t help but immediately take out his phone to browse. News articles with varyingly provocative and controversial titles drift by at the flick of his fingers. The end of all wars; the cataclysm reimagined; celebrity scandals. Nothing new, nothing of interest, but at least something to pass 7 minutes. And he arrives. He gets off the train and leaves the underground. Only a few more blocks to go. Carriages are racing along the streets, but he manages to spot a few gaps to run through. It isn’t long until he finally reaches the skyscraper where he spends a third of every day. With a quick look at his pocket-watch, he finds that there’s still a few minutes left till he has to clock in. Perfect. A little time to get through his backlog of emails before that meeting. Now with a leisurely pace he passes by the guards, waving a quick hello to them, and takes the levitation pad up to his office. To his surprise, the mailbox is empty, not a single letter inside! A little time to chat with his fellow scribes then…
It was a long day for Jeff. Numerous difficult (and frankly unreasonable) requests for magical notes and even a personal visit from the head scribe themself. Exhausted, Jeff declines an invitation from his co-workers to the local tavern and begins his journey home. The tunnels are bustling at this time in the evening, everyone eager to take a load off after work. A tunnel-worm arrives shortly and Jeff gets on. He spends the journey quietly pondering what he’ll have for dinner. Not much else he can do in 7 minutes after all. A nice steak with some roast potatoes sounds like the perfect end to his day. Maybe he’ll even use a magical note to summon it, just to avoid all the tiresome fuss of cooking it. Soon his wishes are made true and, not long after, he decides to call it a day. And so ends another normal day for Jeff.