Don

Chapter Seven

Chapter 7

Don looked at his phone, staring in the darkness with sublime equanimity. He clicked on the home button which suddenly lit up his iPhone's screen. Steve Jobs. What a wonder he was. Genius, Don thought.

"Don't let others opinions drown your inner voice," he had said.

Don shrugged, lying in his bed. He could not deny the truth. Don discovered that it was just three in the morning, which was not a good time to be awaken but on the contrary, sleeping at this hour was impossible. He turned to the other side to see Ayesha sleeping, deep in her sleeping. Her eyes followed a slow random movement from one side to the other. She was not aware of anything in the whole world. She was a good sleeper, the fact had to be acknowledged.

Don stepped out of the bed and walked for the bathroom. All was dark. He turned around to end the suspicion for anyone else to be present behind him or in the spacious room, but to his mere curiosity and satisfaction, there was not a single movement. He entered the bathroom, and saw his reflection in the mirror. For a moment, he was unsure of what was becoming of him but he knew that he, Don was the most powerful and will remain to be, for the ages to come.

Don re-entered the room with a fresh face and sat on his bed, thinking about something. One thing puzzled him, Interpol was after him, fine but they had none of a good reason. He could not guess any reason. He had done nothing serious, lately. Something was wrong and he had to find out.

Part 1

Natara's body was drenched with sweat after a vigorous match in badminton in which she had successfully beat her opponent by a fair score. Natara went towards her bag, took out a towel and started to wipe her face when her coach came and congratulated her. Natara displayed a pleasant expression.

She deftly took out her skipping rope and started the skips. With each skip, she was having an altogether new thought. Most of the times, she was thinking about catching Don and getting information from Colton.

Natara had a trickle of sweat went past her spine making her realize it was enough for today. She stopped the skip from completing to five hundred and put it down swiftly. Natara gazed at the neon-lighted courts. Everyone was so much engrossed in their play that knowing the world seemed not their cup of tea.

Little children were just tossing the shuttle cock at each other, trying hard to learn to play the fastest game. Some of the good players were sprinting, achieving to increase their movement and speed on the court.

Natara took her bottle out of her bag and sipped some droplets.

She was exhausted and depressed. Something was concerning her. Natara was not a psych or something, but some answers for what she was craving were disturbing her by coming again and again into her head.

Natara left the badminton court and started to walk. She very well knew that she had to jog and return back home, but she was not just feeling like doing it. She was a depressed monotonous sloth.

It was now seven a.m in the morning. The sun did not shine very bright. The weather was gloomy. A day without sun seemed forever. He was like the husband of the grey clouds. When he did not shine a ray, all became sad and oppressive.

Natara reached the apartment, looking round her, she entered like a thief. Natara felt cozy and comfortable on reaching, it was like she was aware of each and every that passed by. Natara sat on the couch with a thud and pulled the aglets of her white gum-soled badminton shoes, to make her feet feel easy. The laces let loose, in the opposite directions.