Ingredient #1;

She stared hopelessly at the stacks of paper works on the table running her fingers along the thin lines. She eyed the papers, wondering if she was able to finish checking them all in time. She sighed, obviously not wanting another hour spent at this tedious office she works in. She lifted her chin up and scanned the room; everyone was imperceptibly packing their things up and leaving. She glanced at her wrist watch, ten minutes ‘till 8PM.

‘Oh well, better start working.’ She muttered under her breath, dejectedly reaching for the first stack of papers she was assigned to check. She looked through the papers; barely even reading them as she breathed the petulant blasé air in annoyance.

One paper after another, it was slowly driving her to the edge. She heaved a heavy sigh, reaching for the second stack. Sometimes she wondered why she was still working in this office and not do what she loved most—painting. She sighed again for the umpteenth time at the thought of that, that little hobby of hers. It was more of a passion actually.

No. She couldn’t follow her dreams, her passion or her heart. If she became a full-time painter, she won’t earn much and it wasn’t a stable job. Well, that was what her mother had said. Don’t waste your time on this pointless hobby. Don’t just rely on your husband for money. Be a responsible wife. Another bit of nagging here, another bit of nagging there. She groaned in frustration, slamming the papers down. She closed her eyes, bringing her hands up to massage her temples as she couldn’t focus anymore.

As she opened her eyes again ready to get back to work, the lights suddenly went out in a blink of an eye. She jolted of her chair, frightened. She was definitely not a fan of the dark and this sudden blackout happening when she was sitting here alone in this deserted room; well, it didn’t make anything b