Chapter 8: You’re an earthly comfort yet so divine. I will never see you again.
"Half of my time is wasted on yelling at computers," she sighed.
She took a sip of her coffee and got up from the computer: "I need a break," she looked at the golden woman who was sitting in the armchair in her office.
"You have 5 minutes," the golden woman said while she played with a small knife.
The young woman sighed again and left the room.
She put her coffee cup on the counter in the kitchen and turned on the kettle.
While the kettle was boiling, she stared at a certain spot on the floor.
The golden woman entered the kitchen after her, she noticed the tense face of the young woman.
"What’s your problem?" she asked impatiently.
"I have no problem," the young woman answered and kept staring at the same spot.
"Hey," the golden woman approached the young woman and snapped her fingers: "What’s the deal with your mood?" she said angrily.
The young woman stayed silent.
In the window near the kitchen, a small fly was trying to get into the house, but it couldn't because there was a screen in the window that stopped it from entering.
The young woman stared at the small fly trying to get in for a long time.
Finally, she broke the silence: "You know, life is an interesting thing. When you're little, you can't wait to grow up, but when you're an adult, you just want to be a child again... it's weird... how the human brain works... don’t you think?" she looked at the golden woman.
"So that’s the thing? You’re having some existential crisis now?" answered the golden woman, sitting on a chair that stood next to the counter in the kitchen.
"And what if I am? It’s not in your schedule? Does it bother you in your crazy run to God knows where?" the young woman said angrily.
"Maybe... maybe it really bothers... maybe we don’t have time for this... maybe we have other shit to worry about? Did you think about that? Maybe I’m not a bitch like you think? Maybe I’m trying to make you into something? Something? That people will remember... huh?" said the golden woman.
"Why should I care if people remember or not? If I understand you right, you mean after death?" asks the young woman.
The golden woman nods her head yes.
"Why should I care about that, I’m dead! How would I know if people remember or not? Who the hell gives a damn?" the young woman yells.
The golden woman stands up from the chair angrily: "I do! I give a damn! You want to be a loser no one cares what happens to — go ahead. I want to be a legend. I want to be something important. And yes, I’m not ashamed of it. I want the spotlight on me. I want people to talk about me. Is that bad? If you don’t want anything, then why live? Why breathe?" the golden woman looks at the young woman’s coffee: "Give me that, you don’t deserve anything!" she’s angry.
"Hey! Calm down! I do want things!" says the young woman while she snatches the coffee cup back from the golden woman and puts it on the counter.
"What do you want? 'Things' — what are 'things'? What kind of 'things'?" the golden woman rolls her eyes as if she’s fed up with the young woman.
"I want to be happy," answers the young woman.
"Then write," answers the golden woman.
