Sundori roused from a slumber that spanned eleven hours. Glancing at her phone, she noticed it was already 14:46. This marked the sixth day since she'd contracted a severe cold. Her throat remained sore, and her nose was still congested.
Pulling herself into a sitting position, Sundori blew her nose. As it was Sunday, there was no rush to prepare for work. She could luxuriate in sleep as much as she desired. Typically, a "sleeping goddess" like her could effortlessly clock twelve uninterrupted hours of sleep. Not to mention, she had gone to bed exceptionally late the previous night. This made her afternoon wake-up entirely justifiable.
Her recollection of the previous night was hazy...what had she been doing? Sundori gently tapped her forehead a few times, coaxing her memory back. Ah, yes. She had been engrossed by news regarding chip manufacturers and had decided to delve deeper. She ended up spending hours sifting through an array of public news and rumors available online, browsing Twitter, Reddit, Telegram channels, and more.
At this thought, Sundori couldn't suppress a wry smile. Why did she persist? She was no longer an agent. Her time serving the government was over. Neither her country nor its citizens required her protection or expertise anymore. Now, she was merely expected to be a law-abiding citizen, pay her taxes on time, and get on with an ordinary life. Not to mention that she had just caught the flu. She should have just indulged herself with some good movies and gone to bed early to recover from the sickness.
Shaking her head, Sundori tried to dispel these thoughts. At the same moment, she felt a twinge in her right calf. With tender care, she massaged the painful spot, muttering to herself, "I'm truly aging. This leg has been causing me so much trouble recently." A hint of melancholy washed over her upon this realization. It felt as though a black hole resided deep within her heart, ceaselessly attempting to pull her into its depths.
With a sigh, Sundori dragged herself out of bed and wandered into the kitchen. She began "cooking some food"—if one could dignify the act of microwaving last night's leftovers with such a term.
She also made herself a pot of brewed coffee. No one drinks brewed coffee in this city as it is considered less chic, less classy. To balance the diet, Sundori chopped up some kale and ginger, feeding them into the grinder to prepare a trendy "kale juice". This green drink was all the rage amongst the fashion-conscious ladies these days.
The food before her appeared bland, the coffee tasted watery, while the so-called kale juice sported a deceptive muddy-green hue. Although she didn't have much appetite, Sundori dutifully forced herself to eat, acknowledging the need for energy and nutrients.
Perhaps to distract herself from the uninspiring meal, she found her thoughts drifting back to the news about the chip manufacturer. The report claimed that one of the country's leading chip manufacturers was under investigation due to a confidential information leak potentially threatening national security. Though it didn't specify the company, only a handful held such critical importance nationwide. So Sundori had dug through whatever information she could find about the major players in this field and started connecting some dots to make a reasonable guess.
With her meal and coffee finished, Sundori collected herself up and cleaned the dishes. All the while, her mind continued to connect disparate pieces of information gleaned from various corners of the internet. Just then, a sudden twinge in her calf interrupted her musings. "Damn it!" Sundori cursed, promptly stretching her leg hoping to alleviate the discomfort. This served to divert her thoughts away from the chip manufacturer saga.
Sundori knew she needed to stop obsessing over the news. That was none of her business anymore. It might be healthier to invest some time working on her social circle in this city or at least engage in a few activities.
It has been two years since Sundori moved to this city. In the past two years, she had made no friends, only been to three restaurants for company's team building events, never travelled to places other than her workplace, home, and the supermarket which conveniently located on the first floor of the building she lived. Nothing had intrigued her; nothing had ignited a sense of excitement or vitality within her.
Sundori was deep in a mental maze of introspective thoughts, hardly aware that her fingers had started twirling the knife she'd just used to chop kale. The blade spun and danced, casting a mesmerizing shadow play.
A few seconds later, awareness returned abruptly and she stilled her hand, the knife falling into inactivity. She glanced around, a skittish fear trickling through her as though she feared being caught in an illicit act.
But not a single life was around. the apartment yawned in quiet solitude.
Sundori lived alone, and devoid of any typical companionships in her life: no man awaiting her inquiring texts, no pets seeking her attention, no plants yearning for her care, not even a goldfish lazily swimming in circles.
Her apartment mirrored this sterile existence; its decor was minimalistic, almost austere. Aside from basic furnishings, there was little else—no artwork graced the walls, carpets didn't soften the floor beneath, and photographs were conspicuously absent. A stranger entering the room for the first time would struggle to discern the gender identity of the occupant.
The only area that may have suggested a taste for finer things was her study. Occupying a notable space was a solid wooden standing desk of 6 feet 5 long and 2 feet 6 wide. Atop it resided two laptops, a MacBook Pro and an Alienware, accompanied by a 42-inch ultra monitor and a vertically stationed 27-inch gaming monitor. Nestled beside the desk, a Herman Miller ergonomic chair sat unassumingly, its price tag belying its simple appearance.
Positioned opposite the impressive tech setup, an electronic piano - a Kawai NV10s - held court. Sundori found solace in its keys, often losing herself in melodies late into the night. And to keep peace with her neighbors, she had chosen this model over a grand piano.
Despite the understated decor of the rest of her dwelling, the study hinted at lavishness, especially if one recognized the value of the tech ensemble. Yet to an untrained eye, its worth would remain as elusive as Sundori's own story.