Page 81 - The Midnight Library
P. 81

www.urdukutabkhanapk.blogspot.com
                                      www.urdukutabkhanapk.blogspot.com






                was  probably  a  perfectly  decent  person  but  she       was  not  anyone    Nora  had

                ever seen in her life. She smiled.
                   ‘Hey. How’s that new poem coming along?’
                   ‘Oh. Yeah. It’s coming along really well. anks.’
                   Nora    walked   around    the   flat   in   a   bit   of   a   daze.   She   opened   a   door   at

                random  and  realised  it  was  the  bathroom.  She  didn’t  need  the  toilet ,  but  she
                needed  a  second  to  think.  So  she  shut  the  door  and  washed  her  hands  and
                stared at the water spiral down the plughole the wrong way.
                   She  glanced  at  the  shower.  e  dull  yellow  curtain  was  dirty  in  a  vague

                student-house kind of way. at’s what this place  reminded her of. A student
                house. She was thirty-five and, in this life, living like a student. She saw some
                anti-depressants  –  fluoxetine  –  beside  the  basin,  and  picked  up  the  box.  She
                read  Prescription  for  N.  Seed  at  the  top  of  the  label.  She  looked  down  at  her

                arm and saw the scars again. It was weird, to have  your own body offer clues
                to a myster y.
                   ere  was  a  magazine  on  the  floor  next  to  the  bin,  National  Geographic.
                e    one   with   the   black   hole   on   its   cover   that   she   had   been   reading   in

                another  life,  on  the  other  side  of  the  world,  only  yesterday.  She  sensed  it  was
                her  magazine,  given  she  had  always  liked  reading  it,  and  had  been  known  –
                even  in  recent  times  –  to  buy  it  on  the  occasional  spontaneous  whim  as  no
                online version ever did the photos justice.

                   She   remembered       being   eleven   years   old   and   looking   at   the   photos   of
                Svalbard,  the  Nor wegian  archipelago  in  the  Arctic,  in  her  dad’s  copy.  It  had
                looked    so   vast   and   desolate   and   powerful   and   she   had   wondered   what   it
                would    have   been   like   to   be   among   it,   like   the   scientist-explorers   in   the

                article,  spending  their  summer  doing  some  kind  of  geological  research.  She
                cut  out  the  pictures  and  they  ended  up  on  the      pinboard  in  her  bedroom.
                And  for  many  years,  at  school,  she  had  tried  hard  at  science  and  geography
                just  so  she  could  be  like  the  scientists  in  the  article  and  spend  her  summers

                among frozen mountains and ords, as puffins flew overhead.
                   But   aer   her   dad   died,   and   aer   reading   Nietzsche’s   Beyond   Good   and
                Evil,   she   decided   that   a)   Philosophy   seemed   to   be   the   only   subject   that
                matched  her  sudden  inward  intensity  and  b)  she         wanted  to  be   a  rock  star

                more than a scientist anyway.


                Aer leaving the bathroom, she returned to her mysterious flatmate.
   76   77   78   79   80   81   82   83   84   85   86