Broken But Beautiful

12. Indecisive Friendship

Manik

I gloomily looked outside the glass door for the 300th time today, failing to see anything at all. The sky was impenetrably dark, with gray clouds shadowing over like vapour and it was torrential rain pouring in Mumbai, at 10 am in the damn morning. No food delivery service nor any kind of cab was willing to take my order right now.

What. The. Hell.

I sorted the curtains back and slumped myself on the couch. The midnight blue curtains with midnight blue couch and midnight blue sheets on the bed. She did have choice.

I snorted. Distasteful to my own trail of thoughts again.

There wasn't a single piece of left-over pizza, no surprise I had ate them all last night only. The refrigerator had apples, orange juice and milk.

My stomach growled at the mere idea.

I was more hungry because of the workout. The manager, the most irritating and overexcited person I had ever met in my life. Cabir seemed to have exaggerated my career to him, because he quite behaved like he was talking to Amitabh Bacchan or A. R. Rahman while he talked to me. He had blubbered for 30 minutes yesterday about all the facilities of the building and the society and the only fruitful piece of information was that it had decent gym on the top floor and pool on the terrace, that was heated in winter. So I decided to treadmill after waking up today morning. The gym was indeed decent, and mostly empty- which lifted my spirits quite naturally. I ran in full swing for half an hour straight, did some push-ups and weight lifting and that was when it had suddenly started pouring outside. Hard.

Argh.

For one nanosecond, only for one hungry, desperate nanosecond- I thought of actually going to Nandini's. I knew she was home, she had late night shift yesterday. And yesterday I hadn't seen anyone- except for the breakfast with Mukti I was all day home- trying to concentrate. I had written quite a lot, too- but the fact remained that I knew I could do better. However, still improvement.

But no- no going to Nandini's. Nope. Fuck breakfast. One apple a day keeps the doctor away, anyway.

So I sighed, gave my stomach some potential courage and walked towards the refrigerator. I pulled out the orange juice bottle, poured some into a glass and took out an apple. Just as I took a sip the intercom in the living room started to ring.

Not the manager, please.. like please...

I picked up the call, sipping once more, "Hello?"

"You could really stop sipping orange juice and come two floors down, you know,"

I choked as Nandini Murthy's sweet voice rang into my ear. I looked at the glass of orange juice in my hand, dumbfounded.

I cleared my throat, "Thanks. But have you fit some CCTV camera in my house?"

She chuckled, "Very funny, Manik. But well, you only had orange juice in your fridge, the only thing applicable in the morning. Surely you won't be sipping beer or wine?"

"Wow Dr. Murthy!" I exclaimed in fake wonder, "So smart of you!" 

"Yeah, thanks," she repeated my sarcasm, "Now, Mr. Best Selling Author, would you please do me the honor of coming two floors down and have the breakfast with me? No food delivery app or no sensible cap is going to give you service right now,"

"Thanks for informing, I didn't know," I said, "But thanks again, I'll manage on my own,"

My stomach growled again. Surely it had a mind of its own.