We have developed stratospheric tendencies towards hyperbole in contemporary language. Descriptions land squarely at the awesome or horrific ends of the experience scale, without ever visiting the just fine middle. This can give the impression that well and good are no longer acceptable. It also belies the truth that the average person is pretty darn lucky to dwell in the land of fine, even if it means they never touch the stratosphere.
Naturally this leaks into writing. There are few novels about the slow grind through teen boredom and angst, for example. Holden Caufiled would need to turn into a zombie to find a starring role in today's bestseller. Even in more serious-minded nonfiction, character profiles tend toward the hyperbolic ends of the spectrum; most are works of hagiography or condemnation, with few uncovering that complex middle ground.
So for this Monday writing prompt, we're staging a coup de fantastique. Whatever your genre, pick a very average person and describe their very average day, or their very average existence. Is there still something profound or beautiful in that quotidian existence? Can something powerful happen in a day or a life in which nothing powerful happens? This is not a license to be boring--just find a little quiet on this fall morning. Keep it to 300 words.