Chapter 3. Another Day

There was a content sigh of relief as the woman kicked off her heels and walked barefoot across the wooden floor of her flat. She sets her bottle of perfume back on her dresser, then peels off her coat and dress, changing into a more simple gown, and combed the night out of her long damp hair. Within a few minutes, she was sitting back in one of her upholstered chairs, a book in her lap, and a glass of wine in hand to cleanse her palette of her most recent meal. She turned the page and looked out her window to let her eyes wander a moment; the snow stopped, the oil lamps dimmed, and the sky seemed a little darker.

The woman returns to her book, one of the latest musings of a man’s attempts to grasp the inner workings of the mind. It was a whimsical, albeit simple, read. A shifting creak. It had come from the stairwell outside. The woman gently folded up her book, striding up to her front door to double-check the locks. She then moved along the walls of her flat, a practiced route, and brought a hand to each of the locks that ensured the windows stayed shut. After the inspection, the woman gives a light sigh and sits at her polished wooden desk to pull out a black book that was neatly tucked away along with the other assorted tomes and loose pages of notes.

Immediately opening the book to a blank page, she picked up her quill and proceeded to write down her own thoughts and theories on the inner workings of the mind; what she had read, what she had learned contrary or compatible, and how it could be of use. The physical brain was one thing; a definitive form and function, identical between every human. But their thoughts? Feelings, emotions, experiences, and own constructs of morals and ideologies? Those were indefinite, fascinating, and she wanted to know them all.

The darkness of the night started to slowly recede, the sky gradually becoming a lighter shade of blue. With this, the woman set aside her quill, tucking her book away, and proceeded to draw the thick blue curtains across the frosted windows; the curtains were nothing like back home, but they got the job done. She changed into a long white nightgown, drew the white curtains around her bed, then laid down straight as a log into the soft pillows and sheets, closing her eyes on another day.

In her sleep, the searing light of day continued to threaten the peaceful slumber, as it did every day. Though with the passing of the shortest day of the year, its light seemed harsher, as if returning from the brink of dark in all its life-giving splendor. The low murmurs and patter of the other tenants wormed their way into the woman’s dreamless half-asleep state. These continuous interruptions had her in bed until the evening, long after the sun had set, and it was already past dinnertime for most when the woman finally decided to sit up from her bed and stride across the dark room barefoot.

She had just started brushing her silken hair, barely ruffled by the long rest, when there was a knocking. The woman listened to hear the door from another residence across the hall opening. “Oh, hello sir,” a soft old voice says, muffled from the walls; Mrs. Somerset. The woman went back to her brushing, imagining the elderly Mrs. Somerset with her kind smile, in her faded red coat and black bowler hat, and white gloves pulled over wrinkled hands that held her small purse.

“Good evening ma’am, sorry to disturb you,” a deep, equally soft voice starts. “I was wondering if the doctor was in?”

The woman had already put her brush down at the mention of ‘doctor’ and putting on another robe over her gown.

“Doctor? Oh, you must be looking for Alex!” and she could hear the shuffles of Mrs. Somerset. The knock on her door came, and the woman took her time reaching to turn the handle.

The woman kept her appearance somewhat alert, and she was looking down at the feeble form of Mrs. Somerset, who was not in her usual clothes, but rather in a gown and robe much like herself. The older woman’s curls of white hair seem to have gotten thinner. Mrs. Somerset says, “Alex dear, this man seems to be looking for you.”

“Apologies for disturbing your evening, sir…” the figure in the coat trails off as he steps up, and oh the look of surprise on his face when his eyes fall onto her. The woman was unsure whether to laugh or to slam the door.

“I take it the matter is important if you’re interrupting me right before I head to bed.”