Its 01:34 and 2 Degree Celsius. It is very cold and the heaters are barely working. A very calm and quiet surrounding, making the police siren noise very loud. I am sitting in a newly white washed room with a second hand sofa bearing two sacks of unpacked luggages. It is directly facing me. I munch an apple laying my legs on the wooden chair. A pack of half fresh bread, open bottle of Mayonnaise with a butter knife, a pack of cigarette bearing in bold Smoking Kills and 2 empty coffee mugs rest on the table head, un-arranged. The deodorant bottle sleeps on the carpet along with TV cables. A plate with half cut onions fills the room with oxidized amino acid aroma. I don't bother to throw it away. There is no dustbin. I turn my head around only to realize that the carpenter hasn't finished his work yet, how long I wonder, would it take. The dim bulb suspended in one end of the room unable to throw light at the other end. It's companion is dead. It feels tattered and disorderly. The plug extender hangs as if it were on a cliff with 4 plugs pulling it down, it is hanging on a perfect equilibrium. The dusted TV faces the wall as if it were punished. I see the brand new washing machine through the spindles of the chair, waiting to be on duty.
I watch the clock tick as I wait, I don't know for what; I don't know for whom. A minute passes by reminding me of what to do next. I want to be free of responsibilities, I think, as I chew the last apple bite, Right now.
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