Yours insanely

1.Life lately

You stared at the clock across your bedroom, watching as it kept ticking, counting the number of times it did, making sure it was really sixty seconds each minute.

It wasn't too difficult to see now. The first rays of the rising sun had peeked into your bedroom as you held your blanket up to your neck.

The blaring of the alarm through the silent room didn't startle you.

You had been waiting for 6 am, watching the clock for the past ten minutes so that you could get out of bed. Now you could.

Pushing the blanket off your body, you sat up on your bed, landing your feet on the floor.

You grabbed said blanket into your hands, taking hold of the hem before you started to fold it. When you were done, you placed it neatly on top of the pillow; a slight form of satisfaction formed in yourself.

Oddly though, you could never let go of this morning ritual. It wasn't that you lived alone now, nor did anyone keep reminding you to do it anymore. But they say, old habits die hard.

Making sure the bed was perfectly set again, you walked to your closet, opening it and randomly picking your clothes for the day. Nothing special. It was just another day.

When you were done with your morning routine and walked out of your bedroom, it was 7 am.

Grabbing the house keys and your backpack (already packed last night) from the couch in your small living room, you looked around one last time to check whether all the lights and fan were off.

When you were sure, you walked out through the front door, locking it and putting the keys in the small zipper in front of your backpack.

You thought about how your day would go as you walked the path filled with bougainvillea to the front gate.

It gave a cheerful appearance with its bright colored petals, hiding the small home within its branches.

The landlord was an old French woman, in her seventies. She moved to Goa when the place was yet to attract people around the world.

She had left an unhappy family and traveled as far as she could, as far away from her previous home as possible.

They called this house the Parish place. It was made up. She was from Paris. Initially, people around thought that she would perish, trying to make a living for herself.

This little home was the first one she built with hard earned money, before the next one, and the next.

And the only condition she gave you before handing you the keys was that the bougainvillea should be left as it is.

Well, you didn't mind. Even the front gate could be barely seen. You liked it. You like being hidden.

You liked knowing what would happen next in your day.

After walking to the small diner three streets away, you'd have your breakfast.

You'd reach the convenience store before 8 am and work behind the cash counter, until it was noon and you'd leave to the same diner to have lunch.

Lunch is done by 12:30 pm and before 1 pm, you'll reach the café. It was not a very busy place, but it was famous among natives.

Thereon, you'll start your shift as a waitress and continue till 5 pm.

By 6 pm, dinner will be done, again, in the same diner before you walk back home.

You'd do nothing till 8:30 pm, complete your night routine and go to bed by 9 pm.

Staring at the ceiling, you'll wait for sleep to take over you so you could wake up again at 6 am. And the previous day would repeat itself.

Weekdays were spent working two part time jobs. Weekends were spent at home.

This has been your life for five months, ever since you've been out on your own.

You didn't earn much, but you were content with it. You were comfortable. And so was this life.

Nothing could get in the way of your routine as you walk through the bougainvillea.

You'd keep doing this for the rest of your life; no bustling or expectations. Just you and your perfectly planned day.

What could go wrong?

A lot, actually.