The kettle let out a shrill whistle, its sound harmonizing with the soothing melodies of chirping birds outside. The clock on the wall seemed to tick faster than usual, drawing my attention to its digital display—7:30 in bold, unyielding digits.
They say the greatest fear of humanity is the thought of slipping into slumber and never waking again. But for me, a staunch atheist, such fears hold no sway. Why, you may ask? Because belief in religion and its afterlife is an ethical dilemma I refuse to entertain.
As I sat down with a steaming cup of green tea, I pondered the struggles faced by devout Christians, despite their unwavering faith. It led me to consider the concept of atheism—an anomaly in a world steeped in religious fervor. To openly declare oneself as godless requires a certain deviation from the norm—not physical, nor spiritual, but rather, a divergence of mentality or psychology. And mine was no exception.
This was my usual internal monologue on atheism—a constant conflict between the convictions of my mind and the doubts of my heart. But there was more to it, a hidden past lurking in the shadows, waiting to be revealed.
"Adam, your newspaper," called out the kind-hearted lady from across the room.
With a nod of gratitude, I acknowledged her from the window, "Thank you, ma'am."
Today feels strangely different, a departure from the usual melancholy that often clouded my thoughts. It was as if a veil had been lifted, revealing a glimmer of unexpected joy in the midst of life's mundane routines.
*
A sudden buzz broke the tranquility, prompting me to retrieve my phone from its usual spot on the shelf. Mitchelle's voice greeted me on the other end.
"Good morning, sir," she chirped. "You've got a 9 AM appointment with the chief."
"Thank you, Mitchelle. I'll be there," I confirmed, grateful for her efficiency.
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Mitchelle, my secretary, often sparked assumptions of wealth, but her dedication transcended mere status symbols.
"Got it, sir. I'll handle the details," she assured before we disconnected.
As I hung up, I pondered her motives. Was she driven by ambition, seeking recognition, or simply fulfilling her role? Regardless, any romantic notions were misplaced. The door to my heart remained firmly closed, its key seemingly lost to the heavens. If a realm like that ever existed.
This wasn't our first encounter. Meetings with the chief—my father—were routine, yet our relationship remained strained. Silence often filled the room, a silent testament to the unresolved tensions between us.
Our dynamic had always been tumultuous, fraught with conflict from the start. If only my mother were here to witness the sadness that now tainted our interactions. Despite her unwavering faith, her premature departure had failed to soften the bitterness that enveloped me.
A familiar honk from outside signaled Chevron's arrival. He wasn't just my driver; Chevron was the epitome of loyalty, a steadfast companion from my youth to the present day. His unwavering support had been my anchor in a world where paternal guidance was lacking.
*
As the automatic doors unlocked and swung open, I entered the building, dressed in a sharp black suit, a crisp white shirt, and impeccably polished shoes. My attire not only exuded sophistication but also accentuated my features.
With my head held high, I carried myself with confidence, my dark brown eyes and subtly pink lips adding to my allure. Despite being of mixed race, I held myself in high regard, rating myself a perfect 100 without a hint of arrogance.
As I traversed the lobby, I noticed heads turning and bodies bowing—a silent acknowledgment of my status as a person of influence. Mitchelle, my ever-efficient secretary, greeted me with a mischievous smile as she handed me the files.
"Why bother!" I muttered to myself, unfazed by the early arrival. It afforded me a precious moment of solitude to bask in the ambiance of my office—a space even the president would envy.
Though my responsibilities as hospital president were demanding, I found solace in the simple pleasures of life. Whether it was indulging in my favorite music or immersing myself in a game of Call of Duty Mobile, I embraced my youthfulness.
Billie Eilish's music, in particular, held a special place in my heart. Her song "Happier Than Ever" resonated deeply within me, serving as a reminder of the unique connection we shared.
A sudden realization jolted me from my reverie—I was running late. Time seemed to slip away unnoticed, with my wristwatch boldly displaying 9:04.
My secretary's silent reproach was palpable as I hurriedly made my way to the meeting room. Despite my haste, I maintained my composure, mindful of the dignity befitting my position as hospital president.
As I quickened my pace, I couldn't help but feel a pang of embarrassment. How could the president of a renowned hospital be caught in such a predicament?