Chapter 2 - Chapter 2

It was now June 25, and as the sun proudly claimed its throne in the sky for another cloudless day, businesswoman Albirteuno Eiustanogre slowly roused from her slumber embodying the image of a content cat lounging in the sunbeams of inactivity. The sun, unimpressed by human drama, continued to shower its brilliance into Albirteuno's room. She had the day off, and she didn't wish to spend all day moping in bed, so with a mix of emotions and a strong desire for breakfast, she got up slowly and stumbled into the kitchen to make breakfast. "Maybe I should change my name to 'Miss Independent' for next month." She mumbled to herself, en route to the kitchen. While chuckling at her own joke, Albirteuno reached the kitchen. Little did she know, Tim John, the architect of yesterday's emotional rollercoaster, had overheard her quip from the living room. Fashionably disheveled and sporting a tie that looked like it lost a wrestling match, he strolled into the kitchen, still oblivious to the emotional turmoil he had unleashed the previous day and raised an eyebrow at Albirteuno's self-proclaimed rebranding. "Miss Independent, huh? Are you starting a solo career or something?" he remarked, completely disregarding the lingering tension in the air. Albirteuno shot him a deadpan look," Ah, Tim John, my ever-observant roommate," she replied, her voice dripping with sarcasm as she prepared to make breakfast. "Yes, I'm leaving my job to become a one-woman circus act. You'll be my first and only audience member." Tim John chuckled, a sound reminiscent of a rusty lawnmower trying to start up on a chilly morning. "Well, at least I know I'll get front-row seats." Tim John checked his wrist, which was devoid of a watch. "Speaking of independence, duty calls, and the corporate world awaits my dazzling presence." Albirteuno, ready to enter culinary combat mode, nodded towards the exit. "Off you go, conquer those spreadsheets and conference calls." Tim John, taking a hint for once, decided it was time to make a graceful exit, or as graceful as a man with a slightly askew tie could manage. "I wouldn't want to be late to the place where people pay me to pretend I understand what I'm doing. It's a tough job, but someone has to do it." he declared, with all the gravitas of a knight preparing for battle, albeit a battle most likely involving spreadsheets and conference calls. Albirteuno had her own battle to take care of, a culinary battle to make breakfast. As Albirteuno surveyed the kitchen battlefield, she couldn't help but feel like a fearless warrior, facing a daunting challenge. Armed with a spatula and her determination, she set out to conquer the kitchen before her. But just as she was getting into the groove of culinary combat, there was a knock at the door. Albirteuno hesitated, wondering if it was Tim John returning to retrieve something he forgot, like his dignity. With a spatula in one hand and a pancake mid-flip in the other, Albirteuno Eiustanogre squinted at the door, muttering, "Really? Right in the middle of my pancake-flipping enlightenment?" She cautiously approached the door, spatula in hand, ready to defend herself against any unexpected emotional ambush. To her surprise, it wasn't Tim John standing on the other side but her neighbor, Mrs. Mulberry, clutching a basket of freshly baked cookies. "Oh, hello dear! I thought you might need some cheering up, after what happened yesterday, so I baked you some cookies!" Mrs. Mulberry exclaimed with a wide smile. Albirteuno blinked in disbelief, momentarily taken aback by the random act of kindness from her eccentric neighbor. "Um, thank you, Mrs. Mulberry. That's really sweet of you, but how do you know what happened yesterday?" Mrs. Mulberry winked mysteriously, "Darling, I have my ways. Let's just say I have a sixth sense for relationship drama in the neighborhood. Now, enough about that! I brought cookies to mend your broken heart, not to stir the emotional pot." "Well, thank you for the cookies. That's very thoughtful of you." She accepted the basket with a grateful smile, trying not to dwell on the fact that her neighbor might have some sort of secret surveillance system set up to monitor their life. As Albirteuno thanked Mrs. Mulberry, and closed the door, she turned her attention back to the pancakes. In the midst of her conversation with Mrs. Mulberry, a subtle yet unmistakable smell of burning pancakes had filled the air. Albirteuno's eyes widened in horror as she glanced at the stove, only to find her once fluffy and golden pancakes now resembling charred frisbees. As the scent of burnt sacrifice wafted through the air, she couldn't help but think that her kitchen battlefield had turned into a post-apocalyptic wasteland of breakfast dreams. Mrs. Mulberry's cookies suddenly seemed like the last beacon of hope in this carb-loaded apocalypse. While wallowing in her pancake defeat and enjoying her now exclusively cookie-based breakfast, Albirteuno's phone buzzed with a notification. It was a message from Tim John. "Hey Albirteuno, I just realized I left my laptop at home. Can you bring it to me at the office, I kind of need it to work, Thanks!" Albirteuno stared at her phone, a mix of annoyance and disbelief crossing her face. "Of course," she muttered to herself, "because saving the day is apparently part of the 'Miss Independent' job description." She took a last bite of Mrs. Mulberry's cookie, sighed, and reluctantly got up thinking about how this wasn't exactly how she envisioned her day off. Albirteuno begrudgingly put on her metaphorical superhero cape, or rather, her least stained hoodie, and prepared to embark on the unexpected mission to deliver Tim John's forgotten laptop. But as she stepped out into the hallway, she realized she had no idea where Tim John actually worked.