Are you doodling?
She bites her chipped nails. The scratch of the pencil hitting paper is the only thing that can be heard until the sound of the electric kettle boiling fills the room with it’s sound and steam. The air becomes dense as one line becomes thicker and darker. “This is no good” she thinks. “This is no good” she repeats. The frustration comes to a halt at the same time that the kettle has done its job. Maybe it’s time for lunch and a quick break, yes, looking at it with fresh eyes will help.
She gets up from her chair, rubbing her swollen eyebags with the sleeve of her oversized sweater and walks by pure habit to the kitchen that’s three meters away, knowing only by the feel of her slippers on ceramic tiles that she is there. She stretches to grab the nearest cup of noodles from her cupboard, opening it’s lid carefully with her cold fingers as if it were a sticker for her album. She pours the hot water in, closes the lid and keeps her hands there to receive some warmth in complete quietude.
Three minutes pass and she takes the cup back to her room, along with her prefered fork for feasting. She sets the pages of her Work aside and tries to clumsily clean up some of the mess on her desk. Cup and Fork arrive to its destination but she can’t let it go. “It’s not good enough”. She pulls an old notebook filled with ideas for her Work and hobbies, goes to the last page and begins to draw, how can i make this scene work? Her other hand goes for the first bite of noodles as she hears:
“Are you doodling?” a curious unknown male voice asks. Her mouth opened wide for her first bite replaces food with the absence of speech. Immediate fear takes control of her spine and fire sets on the back of her head. It doesn’t make sense. Her legs wanting to make a run for it just quiver in place as she tries to regain composure, how could someone break in? She was JUST standing in the kitchen, next to the front door three seconds ago. She can feel the presence approach her from behind. From behind? It’s more like it’s everywhere. Everywhere in her head. She breathes deeply as an idea pops up in her head, and the girl accepts it unnaturally so. It would make sense if she finally went insane. If that’s the case: Why not go along with it?
“Actually, i’m working.” she replies with pride, turning her head without getting up from her seat. As the digital clock on her wall strikes three in the morning, she looks at this man and everything is calm.