Lost in thought, Karen took a sip from her freshly-ground and brewed Thogarihunkal Estate medium roast coffee. As the first sip touched her lips, she smiled, feeling the warmth spread across her body. The knots in her head started untying themselves, one by one. No matter what the problem, coffee always had a solution.

Every now and then, Karen found herself foraging for scraps of sanity. The home arrest had taken its toll. It’s not that she didn’t enjoy spending time at home, reading a book, sketching or even meditating. But back then, she had done so out of choice while enjoying the freedom to step out whenever she wanted. In fact, she made it a point run an errand for groceries or visit the local café once every three days. Magari with its rustic interior and resident rescued ginger moggie inspired the artist in her. She had spent many days sitting at a table near the window, working, sipping and petting away. Now, she was a prisoner.

Staring into her mug of Brobdingnagian proportions, she admired the colour of the brew. Just the right balance of bean and dairy. No sugar. She took another sip. Heaven.

Karen had become a prisoner of the pandemic only recently. But she had been a prisoner of her mind ever since she could remember.

Anxiety was her steady companion. She was ‘normal’ for about two-and-a-half weeks but towards the end of the third week, dark clouds loomed over the hitherto clear expanse that was her mind. They blocked out any ray of positivity, spreading faster than the virus until she could breathe no more; sometimes, quite literally.

Eventually, the storm passed, leaving her washed-up with the flotsam and jetsam of her overthinking. Thankfully, her appointments with Dr. Zorabian had been shifted online. Karen looked forward to the therapy session each month.

Nursing the marbled ceramic, she folded her fingers around it and held it to her chest. It’s a habit she had not learned but instinctively inherited from her maternal grandmother. Strangely, it comforted her.

Taking another sip, she looked out the window. Half blocked by an intricate network of branches and green foliage, it wasn’t much of a view – a cobbled walkway, a few swings, slides and seesaws, a merry-go-round and benches – but at least it had been lively before; the young jogging and the young at heart strolling, children noisily playing, and young mothers sat on the benches with their toddlers taking in some fresh air.

Now, it was deserted save the rows of neatly parked cars and bikes. The only signs of life were a flock of sparrows, shimmying in puddles of water left behind by nocturnal showers and a pack of pariah dogs, trotting about in confusion. Every now and then a piercing bird call sliced through the dead silence.

  “Ding-dong.”

  “I’ll get it.”

  “Yes?”

  “Madam, here’s the list of the building’s residents that we’ll be submitting to the local healthcare authorities. They will be conducting random medical examinations until the end of this month.”

  “Okay, thank you.”

Shutting the door behind her, Karen returned to her spot by the window. The sun was setting and streaks of pink and orange shot across the vault. A welcome break, no matter how brief, from the otherwise gloomy monsoon weather.

Karen’s coffee had gone cold.

 “Reheating coffee midway is low-key a tradition with coffee drinkers, isn’t it?” taunted Karen’s husband.

 “I didn’t know you were here,” she replied, startled.

 “Just came to get a bottle of water.” Saying this he disappeared into their bedroom.

Karen plonked herself onto the vintage armchair in their study. Folding her legs into a comfortable position, she lowered her head into her mug. She caught whiffs of steam and stayed like that, eyes closed for what seems like ages.

When she finally opened her eyes, she spotted the novel on her table. Taking yet another sip, careful not to burn her lips, she turned to page 274.

Last night, Lisa Genova’s protagonist, Sarah Nickerson’s life had taken a drastic turn. The almost fatal accident had caused ‘left neglect’, a condition resulting from damage to the right hemisphere of the brain. The transition had been tough to say the least. However, it had given Sarah the time to think about the areas of her life that she had ‘left neglected’.

As she took the last sip, Karen pondered how the pandemic had brought her life to a standstill, compelling her to focus on areas in her life that she’d unknowingly taken for granted. She felt hopeful at the epiphany, slightly excited even, or maybe it was the caffeine.

Karen headed to the kitchen with a renewed perspective. She was going to be okay.

  “Want to have tacos for dinner?”