She blinked her eyes open. The onlooker was wearing a curious look that was contagious. It was inviting of other occupants to also give a second glance to the subjects. It was as though the objects for a moment had mistakenly respired, almost blowing the inanimate undercover. The scrutinizing glance seemed to strip the scene down. It was hard to believe that it was guided by chance, upon the arbitrary movements of the torso and neck. Mellow yellow hues embedded in light fleeted away exposing a blemished white. The walled seemed to hold off its blinking. Rigidly fixing its eyelid until the little moisture evaporated to an irritable dryness, the white in the eye developing an unexpected paleness instead of the hyperemic red. It was questioning of normalcy. If there were a bar for existence, it seemed to have gotten slightly higher in an instant. The naive scenery had all of a sudden been collaring itself for an interview. Vulnerability being exposed was a matter of time. Physical substances were feeling self-aware as if subject to a quiz of AI-generated or real. In that sense, it was perhaps an effortless endeavor restorative of normalcy rather than questioning it.

She blinks again. The naive objects were starting to seem awkwardly juxtaposed among themselves. Situated above the eye level were a consortium of various lights. Too various. Cylindrical cans of light extending from wall to wall, corner to corner, the white exterior of which resembles those of Xiaomi appliances. Beneath the cylinders by the window side were lights in the casing of a cone in a different altitude. The vertical streaks betrayed its tin-like composition. A beam of horizontal light crossed the center of the eight-seater table, parallel to the cones. The elongated translucent cover were bezel-less. It was keeping up with the minimalistic design trends also found in infinity pools of five-star hotels or grand villas. And the wicker bird cage lighting hovered above the marbled coffee table top. The rug on the floor, the fabric sofas were struggling to offer context to this exotic element. It was a small space. But there were so many of everything. The room could be split into five functional areas. It had three different styles of artwork, five different types of seating, four different types of rug. The objects respectively were whispering it wouldn’t have minded the neglect. The objects in unison were screaming Wework.

She blinks again. She notices the glimmering light projected on the white walls that must have bounced off the public buses passing by. They always are accompanied by the low muffled sound of the engines. Her eyes are on the disorganized panoramic beam and that is when the elements realize that the look was not of scrutiny but of appreciation, or just a plain one without the governance of deliberation. It was when she blinked yet another time, withdrew her glance and was now facing the contents of her backpack, that I withdrew my eyes from those seemingly curious eyes.