The metro let out a whir as it rushed through the underground tunnel. Inside this giant metal snake, the lights were bright, too brighteven, forcing you to squint if you didn't want a headache. People in suits slumped in their seats, drained of energy, like the living dead abandoned by their necromancer.
I moved away from my book and glanced at my phone. It was 8 PM already.
The air conditioner made the car cold, but the lingering dust mixed with sweat and artificial lemon made the ceiling air freshener useless. My poor nose had no chance. The speakers leaked soft, muffled lo-fi tunes to comfort the unlucky souls who had spent the day breaking their bones for a meager salary, serving some corporate overlord.
Boredom and loneliness. A common issue.
I used to think being an adult was awesome. You could sleep late, drink alcoholic drinks, ride a motorbike, and buy anything you like. Turns out the reality was harsher than I expected.
First, time.
You exchanged the money you had as an adult with your free time. I could buy the entire crate of beer or a collection of an expensive wine just fine, but it was pointless if I had no free time to enjoy it.
Second, growing up.
Yes, you grew up. As a kid, you loved superheroes, but as an adult? Debatable. Slowly yet surely, any hobbies and passions you had slowly decayed into nothingness, leaving you as an empty, automated husk that worked for the sake of looking busy.
'Well, lucky at least I have one passion that still remains.'
I glanced over the title of the book I was holding. It was a niche title, not known to many, a criminal mystery genre. You know–Sherlock Holmes, Hercule Poirot and so on. Though many of the older titles were written in a rather different style of English than I used to and gave me a difficulty to read and understand it, I loved reading them nonetheless.
My love for detective stories dated way back from my childhood. Weird, right? I read one of Mom's book collections and fell in love. Heck, I even dreamed of being a detective too. Unfortunately, because of my poor eyesight–thanks to my excessive reading– I was deemed unfit for joining a police force.
But hey! Realism wasn't everything. Some things were better to stay hidden for me to enjoy. Plus, the moment you turned a hobby or passion into a work, you lost them. Let a hobby be a hobby. Sure it was bummer, but I could always read the romanticized version of their work from books. Not sure I'd enjoy working as the real thing too.
"Ugh.." I took away my glasses and rubbed the bridge of my nose.
A headache setting in. Pretty normal after an exhausting day, not making it less annoying, though. Taking off my glasses and relaxing my eyes usually did the trick.
Working as a neurosurgeon demanded my utmost focus during the day. Especially today where I had three surgeries planned. It felt like my brain power was completely sapped. Combined with my hobby of reading the detective novel where the reader had to actually think to comprehend the story? Yeah, no wonder I was having a headache quite often.
Though this time, it was a bit more severe. Happened a few times already, so no worries.
"A little shut eye then. I guess my schedule has been super packed today." I sighed, rubbing my tired eyes.
I shouldn't have taken over Dr. Alric's surgery today. Two was supposedly the limit, but his patient required immediate treatment, so the admin got no choice. At least I was given the entire day off. But God, please remind me to not do that again. I was so drained that I had to drink the large cup consisting of pure espresso.
I closed my book and put it inside my sling bag alongside my phone. After taking a deep breath and hooked my glasses to my breast pocket, I leaned down to the head rest and shut my eyes.
"A few minutes would do."