SEVENTEEN

THE SUN streamed through the window, casting a spotlight on Doris' desk, but she barely noticed. Her eyes were glazed over, her mind far away from the magazine at hand. She had been staring at the same page of the fashion magazine for what felt like an eternity, and her brain was starting to feel numb. The pictures and words on the page seemed to swim before her eyes, blurring into a sea of meaningless rubbish. Doris was in the throes of the most deadly foe an idle person can face: boredom.

For someone who had been active most of her life, this current stay-at-home life wasn't settling well with her. She needed to finish her business here and go back to Paris or at least find a new hobby—other than tormenting Brad—to alleviate her boredom.

As she opened the door, the autumn air hit her like a breath of fresh life. It was warm and invigorating, refreshing and rejuvenating, like a warm blanket and a cool breeze all at once, carrying with it the scent of the changing season.