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Where are the conversations?

The last few minutes before Shuti left her home, usually decided her day ahead. IF she was late, there was no forgiving herself. She would go through the entire day with an internal whip slaying her soul. If she was just on time, she told herself tomorrow she will be early. If she was before time, she would kill herself with the pressure to perform consistently tomorrow and the rest of the week.

But she had started her day pretty early today. She had woken up with 2 hours in hand before her estimated time to leave home. But then, she just sat on her rocking chair and kept staring outside the window, soaking in the silence. It was as if she was in a trance. The questions regarding the purpose of life, regarding the weight of knowledge, of growth, of growing seemed to be on hold at these moments. Just sitting and breathing were a good enough reason to live. Sometimes she felt she could just sit like this. For hours. For days. Forever.

She got up after a while. Suddenly her purpose shifted gears and focused on reaching work. A forecast of what was awaiting at work suddenly played in her mind. A sinking feeling. A subtle stoop in her spine Yet, she was in a rush. Rushing to get her lunch, rushing to lock the doors, the windows. Rushing t o switch off all the switches. Carry her purse, check her wallet, check the keys, check the i-card. And then wait at the door for just a few seconds, thinking if she forgot anything.