You get really used to the little things.
Alfred’s never considered himself to be something special and he still doesn’t. He wakes up every morning at the crack of dawn and eyes his alarm clock from across the room, always cursing himself for being smart enough to place it out of arms reach. He showers, dresses, groggily eats some food, and walks to the bus stop. He takes the bus, whether lucky enough to get a seat or condemned to stand, gets off a couple miles north at his college campus, and walks to his first class in the cold, snow slogging and slushing underfoot.
Then, when his classes are over, he takes the bus back home, eats a late lunch, and sits in his room. He shares a student house with a few other guys, but his particular room has a sliding glass door that leads out to a tiny balcony that overlooks the backyard. He’s only on the second floor, so the view isn’t all that great. Mostly he can see the surrounding fence and the top half of the house behind their building. It isn’t anything special, but it’s comfortable.
He has his desk set up so that he can idly stare out the window for however long he needs when doing classwork. It isn’t productive, but it helps ease some of the stress in his brain to just glance outside. There’s a big tree in the yard and this time of year its branches are already bending with snow and ice. Alfred likes being able to see it.
Sometimes birds land on his balcony railing. Once a couple of crows chose that location to fight, which was interesting enough. Sometimes they perch on the fence below, but not often.
There are a lot of cats in this neighborhood.