She dragged the chair to one corner of the roof, towards the raised wall, that looked over the road and sat down on it. She held the piping hot steel cup of tea with both her hands cupped around it. Her eyes listlessly stared over the buildings and the continual restlessness of the world below.
A plane flew overhead. Cars and buses honked at each other, everyone wanted to go back home. The sun disappeared behind a cloud, not letting her see the sunset. The stars slowly started popping out, one by one. Time was in a hurry as well.
She sipped her tea and sat there still. She saw her friend walking on the road, talking over the phone animatedly. A little way ahead on the road two bikes almost crashed into each other, but these were Indian roads, almost-accidents happened more than accidents. Buses still honked. Little pieces of conversations, occasional shouts made their way to her. It went noticed, but not acknowledged. She remained impassive.
The steel cup was now cold. She still held it cupped in both her hands. She was still lost in her own world.
A bird flew past, breaking her out of her reverie. For a moment, pain flashed across her face, her eyes shimmered with un-shed tears, then she closed them, shielding them, although no one was around to notice. It was more habit than a conscious action. When she opened her eyes again, her face went back to being apathetic.
With a heavy sigh she rose, dragged the chair back to how it was before, squared her shoulders and made her way downstairs, to a world where she didn’t quite belong, but nevertheless was a part of.