It had been two weeks since the fire. Nothing had happened out of the ordinary. My neighbours were dutifully checking up on me everyday. The electrician had checked every connection, and even he agreed that it was probably not the iron box, as the wires were fine; they were not even the slightest bit frayed. It was like the box was brand new, even though I had had it for more than five years and had used it many times. Nobody knew what started the fire. "Sometimes, we don't know why things happen," was the conclusion everyone came to and left it at. I had returned to my regular schedule after taking two days off. I would cast glances at the TV and the kettle every now and then. All was normal. Even the nightlight remained at its usual brightness.

On Friday, I had plans with a teacher who had taught me for an extra credit course in college. I had kept in touch with her through social media, and she had returned to the city for a month, so we made plans to catch up over dinner. I had lounged around for half an hour after getting off of work, procrastinating actually getting ready while I scrolled endlessly on my phone. Seeing that it had already become 7 and I was supposed to leave at 7:30, I finally got up to get ready. I played dramatic music so I could feel like a warrior emerging home victorious with every battle they crossed; only my battle was more about clothes, doing my hair and makeup. My phone was at 43%, so I connected it to the charger and let it continue playing the music loud enough for me to hear from across the room.

I went about getting ready. Once I was done, I checked the time and saw that it was 7:17 and I still had a few minutes to kill. Anyway, my phone was still charging, so I roamed aimlessly around my room for a few more minutes until I finally lost patience and decided to leave. I tapped on my phone to check how much it was charged. My heart dropped when I saw it said 10%. I hadn't turned on the switch, and the dramatic music had drained it down further. It wouldn't make much difference if I plugged it in now; it was already 7:25. I remembered the time when my phone ran out of charge on a trip and I got separated from the group. I had to keep asking strangers to help me, but all they did was stare. When I remembered how a man had behaved that day, I had to forcefully distract myself by focusing all my energy into disconnecting my phone.

I just threw the charger in my bag, grabbed my keys, and left. Maybe I could charge my phone at the restaurant. I thought I should call my teacher before my phone runs out of power and let her know that I will be there soon. After talking to her on the phone, I cut the call and checked the battery percentage, only to see that it said 100%. I blinked a few times, believing I was seeing things. I restarted my phone and it still said 100%. Had I seen it wrong the first time?

I didn't have much time to think about it as I reached the restaurant soon. I went inside and sat at our reserved table, which had an intricately designed metal frame above it. My teacher had texted that she would be there in ten minutes. I spent a few minutes glancing through the menu. I then looked around the restaurant. It was half-empty, and the nearest people were three tables away. It had a nice peaceful aura with a cool breeze fanning us and the simple but dim lights. Some pop song was playing at a volume low enough to be faded background music, accompanied by the faint sound of water splashing in the fountains.

I heard someone calling my name and saw that she had arrived. I got up to receive her as she came over to the table. She had shorter hair, but not much else had changed in the four years since I had last seen her. She had the same infectious smile that made all of us smile even when we were feeling down. We ordered a few appetisers and began talking. While she was telling me about a new initiative she had started, I tried to listen attentively, but the music suddenly felt louder. I could barely even hear her voice, let alone understand what she was saying. I leaned closer but still couldn't make out a single word she said.

I loudly told her I couldn't hear her. She couldn't understand what I said either. Both of us kept asking, "What?" back and forth. I felt frustrated and wished the music would just cut out for a minute. At the exact moment I said a particularly loud "What?", the music suddenly stopped. Both of us burst out laughing, but I couldn't help feeling embarrassed. She started talking from the beginning, and the music suddenly blasted again for a few seconds before stopping again.

We waited for a couple of minutes, and it seemed like the music had stopped, so we resumed our conversation. It was actually quite fun catching up with her. She had so many interesting stories to tell, and I was completely engrossed in the conversation. Too engrossed to notice that I put the spicy chutney on my samosa and not the sweet one. I didn't just put a little; I had almost completely immersed the samosa. Normally, I can handle heat in my food, at least to the extent of the spicy samosa chutney. But on that day, I had just eaten a handful of bland French fries and somehow thought it would be a good idea to stuff the entire samosa in my mouth at one go. It wasn't even one of those mini-samosas; I had no idea why I didn't just eat it in parts. I just had to put the entirety of the samosa in my mouth. The first bite was fine, and then it hit my tongue.

When the spice hit, she had just completed a story with a funny punchline at the end. I went to laugh but couldn't, and the spice was making my eyes water. I started coughing while desperately trying to finish chewing it without spitting it out; it was a tasty samosa, how could I spit it out and waste it? Fortunately for me, she got a call right before I started coughing and had turned away from me. By the time the call ended and she turned back to me, I had somehow finished chewing almost all of the samosa. I didn't look like a chipmunk hoarding acorns in my cheeks anymore. My face was red, and my nose and eyes were dripping. I grabbed a couple of tissues and wiped my nose and eyes. She didn't say anything about it, and we continued talking normally. Until the breeze pushed a stray strand of hair in front of my eye, and I went to push it away. In the process, I accidentally touched my eye with a finger that still had traces of that spicy chutney remaining on it.

It seemed like all hell broke loose at that moment. My eye was stinging, and I was trying not to rub it. I couldn't turn my head to look at my teacher; I felt like such an idiot. The music suddenly started playing loudly. The lights started flickering rapidly between too bright and too dull; they even started changing colours. The fountain got louder as the water started spraying erratically, and a spray of water hit my face directly. While I was taken aback by the sudden force of the water on my face, it did provide relief from the stinging sensation of the chutney. The water stopped spraying as suddenly as it started.

In the middle of the shower of water spraying everywhere, a waiter who was carrying a tray of food tripped and fell. A dish flew out from his tray as he fell. The dish landed on a couple's table, and the cloche that was on it flew onto the man's head. The waiter's shoe slipped off of his foot and landed onto another table, which was fortunately empty. However, the force of the shoe knocked the ketchup bottle that was on the table. The bottle flew into another table and landed in someone's dessert bowl. No, it didn't just land there; it exploded onto the ice cream. A child at the table was disgusted by the ketchup ice cream. She angrily shoved the bowl away, which slid easily off the wet table and across the room to hit a woman's foot. The surprised woman yelped and flailed her arms, which dislodged the tissue box on their table. The box flew across to above our table, where it got stuck onto the edge of a metal spiral on the ornate frame above our table. A tissue fell out of the box, fluttering like a flower petal as it delicately landed on my forehead. I gently dabbed the edges of my eyes with the tissue and placed it down.