CURE-ALL // Chapter 2
Anand lies limp on a black rocking chair. His arms sag over the lightwood armrests. His foot rests on a black ottoman. A monitor emits a dim blue light that reflects off the headset he’s wearing. A faint electronic buzz fills the room, interrupted only by his faint snoring. In the dinner parties he’d stopped attending several months ago, Anand would describe his living room as having all the closedness of a womb, with none of its warmth. It’s why we want to look for a new place, he’d say.
Anand stirs, wakes up, wipes the drool off his face. Off to bed, he mutters, taking off his headset and tossing it beside the rocking chair. He attempts to turn on his side, grimaces, gets up off the chair. Hey Diru, play me my sleep playlist, please, he says. A soft piano arpeggiates a major chord over the sound of rain. Anand crashes on the couch next to the monitor, bathed in its blue light.