CHAPTER 185

  The mug is no longer hot, and the coffee is no more smokey; dews are already starting to get dry and darkness to fade away. Slowly, the empty thoroughfare begin to get noised by the passerbys and a few passing vehicles.

  “What made you be an early bird today?” Julia approached, awakening her slumbering mind.

  Eunice rubbed her arms to feel warmth and breathes out after sipping a pint of her drink. Next to her is the woman who is she usually got caught silently whimpering at night before—sometimes, even at dawn, as long as no one is awake, she does.

  “You often say that weekends are rest days, that you will never get out of your room not until the clock hits twelve; claiming that at those days of the week, life starts at noon,” the woman laughingly stated.