The Dead Hour
We both can agree on two things: office life is excruciatingly dull, and there’s always something or someone who becomes our solace in this pain.
It was a usual day; 3 O’clock in the afternoon.
The time when the high-carb, high-oil Indian food you had in your lunch starts piquing the insulin; every bit of the body is filled with boredom, and your body’s biological clock nudges you — ‘take a nap’
The dead hour has begun.
By this time, the annoying cacophony of pounding keyboards becomes less intense, and even your phone squeals a notification for a charge.
But, perhaps, you are just too lazy to plug in the charger — the great god of sloth.
Amidst all these, I was fiddling with my stubble, gazing at the blinking cursor, trying to focus and write a lead. Which after a few feeble attempts, I gave up.
Damn, I need some inspiration.
So, hunting for it, I craned my head and peeped above the cubicle across the floor.
Remember the last time you visited a public bank and saw the mid-aged calloused employee who would hand you the form instead of a basic answer? Well, if you thought nothing could be more soulless, then let me tell you — desktops crammed with codes, some aimless fingers flicking on the phone’s screen, and frustrated faces massaging their forehead.
Uninspiring? Yes. Was I looking for them? Certainly not.
My eyes were looking for someone else. Sadly, I couldn’t find.
Just to take a break from this scene, I looked outside the window — the intense sunlight a few hours before dusk.
As I was gazing, a familiar smell infiltrates my nostrils.
It was delightful and stimulating. *Sniff, sniff*, just like a wolf, I sniffed around in the air.
I knew the smell very well. And it was the one I was looking for. Something that makes my eyes glint, the one that could revitalize every bit of my soul. Dark and bold, like an Egyptian empress, yet so sweet that no one could ignore. I’m addicted.
I could hear the footsteps; the clanging sound like wind chimes. Slowly. Gradually. One after another — the thuds of the footsteps were amplifying.
I could see a shadow through the translucent glass door. Someone is arriving.
My excitement was at its peak.
And with the squeaky sound of opening the door, there arrives to breathe life into this lifeless hour — the tea.
