𝙲𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝟷

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𝑫𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒎 𝒃𝒊𝒈𝒈𝒆𝒓.

Dedicated to sereniity- because her name is the first word of the first chapter of my book.

OMNISCIENT

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OMNISCIENT

Serenity is the word to describe the Burja residence at this moment in time, that is perhaps if you would exclude the multisonous sounds coming from the large flat screen TV hinged onto the walls of the Burja living room.

Before it, sat Mrs Burja with a semi permanent look of boredom etched on her face. The middle-aged woman looked extremely uninterested in what was playing on the screen, she started sifting through channels but nothing seemed to fit her interests. After a while of futile attempts to extinguish her boredom, she switched off the television and threw the remote on the couch. It landed with a cushioned thud.

She picked up her phone, she remembered dumping it minutes before she switched on the television because there was nothing interesting on it. Minutes after scrolling through a few apps, she found herself engrossed in a video she found on Facebook. She thought about sending the video to her daughter but decided against it, instead she decided to send her a message asking when she would be coming back.

She immediately returned her attention back to the video once she sent the text because one thing she knew was that her daughter was a busy person so she was half-heartedly not expecting a reply soon.

Boredom was something she had become accustomed to, because she had only two children, one of who lived 500 miles away with his wife who was expecting a child soon, and the other who lived with her but was almost never around.

It was quite surprising when her phone let out a soft ping almost immediately;

7-7:30. I'm not sure.

She cast a curious glance at the gallery clock mounted on the wall directly accross her and sighed. It was only 1:40pm.

She was not sure what she was going to do for the rest of the day but it was certainly not going to be cramped up in this big house all by herself.

She walked upstairs, grabbed her purse and keys then thundered back down the stairs. Before leaving she popped into the kitchen where she was welcomed by a waft of steam coming from the cast iron pot on the cooker. She glanced at the cook who was chopping some onions with impressive dexterity.

"Mary." Mrs Burja called. "I'm going out, do you need anything?"

Mary, the chef that Nasreen had employed specially for Mrs Burja squinted her eyes open despite the stinging pain of onions. Having realized who it was, her eyes flew wide open.

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