It's Like a Contamination of the Air

Disgusting.

It was utterly disgusting, the way everything was the same. You push your newspaper farther away from you, thinking of all the cliches. You needed to breathe, to clear your head.

You'd make some tea. Yes, that was it, tea. Its warmth always took a hold of your freezing hands and pulled you back to reality.

Reality.
So despicable.

Wasn' it like once one has heard about a murder or a house being burnt, is it not all the same, every time? Perhaps there were a few discrepancies that are different - of course in every aspect there is something different about it, yet they all have the air of being alike - but it is unlikely on ehas not heard the story before. You certainly wish that a new event would take place just for your tastes buds to be free of the same old bread and butter.

You'd make some tea, you would. It would clear your head, help you breathe. And you realized with some dissatisfaction (as if saying you were tired of it all) that you were tired of the same old wordy cliches.