Ah, what a deep sleep.
In the place where I used to stay, they'd hardly ever switch on the AC. With my light Russian skin, I could barely breathe there, that too with the mosquitoes buzzing around and the choking smell of mosquito repellent. Sleep used to be the worst thing I could imagine.
Every night, I would pray for the hours to pass faster, for morning to come as soon as possible. That was my only bedtime wish: Let this night end.
But now—what a difference.
Here, on this ridiculously cozy sofa, under the chill of the AC, with a band playing softly on YouTube, I had one of the healthiest, most blissful sleeps ever. The kind of sleep you don't just have, you feel.
When I woke up, I thought, Maybe I'll make some breakfast.
But honestly, I didn't want to go to work. I had no purpose to do anything in the morning. I could just eat and sleep all day. That's the real luxury—relaxing without guilt.
Wow.
Still, being alone gives me this odd, phobic feeling.
Then—wtf—music from the first floor. Some song playing. Wait, no… it's not a song. It's some Hindu mantra. Sounds like an auto alarm for a spiritual guy to wake up.
Ugh. Too spiritual.
Why are rich people always so spiritual?
Do they become spiritual so they become rich? Nah. I think it's the other way around—they were rich, so they had the luxury to be spiritual. If God had made them poor—like me, a woman who can hardly eat good food—they wouldn't exactly be in love with worship. If He really exists, that would be the first question from any poor person: Why did you make me like this?
Anyway… haha, I kinda love this mantra.
I think breakfast is in the fridge. Oh, yeah—lots of beers. Well, Russians and beer were made for each other. My stomach bacteria will surely love beer in the early morning, even before brushing my teeth. They might think I'm happy, so they'll be happy too.
But ugh, this beer is… not so beer. Worst thing about India? They drink these ridiculously strong beers, never the lighter ones.
Still—morning alarm, Hindu mantra, and beer? Sounds like the perfect combo to dance.
Yeah. The best thing about dancing is that my mind stops thinking about anything else. The focus is all on the movement. And right now, that's exactly what I need.
I guess if any religious person saw me dancing with a beer to a mantra, they'd probably fire me on the spot. Especially in a place like India, where people would choose religion over anything—even their own health. They'd rather live in malnutrition than give up belief.
Sometimes I feel it's the other way around. Being too spiritual is the reason they end up living in malnutrition in the first place.
And look at the irony—God didn't even let them live.
They got erased from the Earth.
And me? An atheist girl who doesn't bow to religion, who doesn't show respect to rituals—I'm alive. Dancing to a religious mantra with a beer in my hand.
That's the saddest part.
I'm living.They're gone.
Woo hoo.
Oops. Breaking a fast with beer definitely wasn't a great idea. My stomach twists, burning—acidic, angry, reminding me that philosophy doesn't cancel biology. No doctors to run to. No clinics. No prescriptions. Just me and this dumb decision.
I press a hand against my abdomen and laugh softly. Even at the end of the world, the body keeps its own rules.
Alright. Enough rebellion for now.
I need a proper breakfast—something healthy, something real. The fridge is packed, like the owners were stocking up for a future they never got to see. I guess I'll borrow a bit of that future.
I crack the fridge open again. This time, no beer. Just food.Let's not die of acidity in a world where everyone else already disappeared.