LED lights cleverly hidden throughout the room started shining cold light before the sun had any chance of flooding into the starkly decorated room. Felicia’s slumbering mind registered this on some level and started the slow process of waking up. The woman regained clarity of mind moments before her alarm went off. Acapella tunes made an age ago by long-dead women started playing over the expensive sound system. For a brief moment, the sleepy woman felt like enjoying the song, felt like she would be able to lose herself in the dulcet tones.

Then the memories of a hundred such awakening and the sheer hatred now associated with the tune crashed back into her mind. She immediately grasped this rising emotion, using it to steer her wandering thoughts into a useful direction. The vibrations emitted from the high-tech speakers started weaving a tale of a mystical being that brought sleep to unwary people. A fanciful tale of a vapid woman asking this being to bring them dreams of their ideal man. This perfect man would then solve all their problems and whisk their loneliness away to pastures unseen, probably along with all their woes and life aspirations.

Felicia hated every single second of this song.

The woman lying on the kingsized bed used this hatred. She employed this insipid feeling of disgust to get her mind in order. She used a well-developed trick; her mind castle. Stark white walls holding colourful paintings sprung up in her mind as she moulded her very thoughts to fit her current needs.

Felicia then stood up, an entire three seconds before schedule. She threw away the velvety covers and strutted over to the wall opposite her bed. Here she gazed upon the massive grid painted upon the white wall. Small and neatly written text, starkly bordered and kept separated. Black surfaces indicated accomplished tasks, red smears of chaos painting her own failures across the wall. The amount of red was very small indeed. Felicia allowed herself a small smile at this accomplishment.

Burning her schedule in her mind’s eye, the woman strode off towards the bathroom. What followed was a strictly choreographed and long since perfected morning routine. A shower was combined with a shaving of her pits and groin, along with a quick scrub of her legs. She towelled off with seconds to spare before applying the minimum amount of makeup; a mere dusting of foundation, a streak of eyeliner and a hint of rouge. She indulged herself a little and dragged a fatty pencil of black around her eyes before brushing some dark pigment around her orbital region.

She then dressed with measured precision, donning a functional pair of underwear before stuffing herself into the shirt and skirt laid out in her spacious bathroom. She decided not to wear the stockings and instead chose the longer of the two skirts present. Her walk down the stairs was measured and done with care. She seated herself at the simple yet high-quality dining table and started eating.

Felicia’s bedroom, bathroom and living room all looked modern, spacious, light, and - above all - Spartan. Not a single item of entertainment or decoration was present. Not a single magazine or multimedia device - except for her strictly functional smartphone - was allowed inside her apartment. The view was all the entertainment she needed, after all. Looking out across the biggest city in the world and all of its inhabitants scurrying around was all the amusement she should ever need. The breathtaking sights where barely glanced at as Felicia took the first bite of her breakfast. The omelette she was delicately digging into was made by a three-star chef, her personal cook. Her personal maid - a thoroughly trained professional - had put the dish on the table only moments before she descended the stairs.

Felicia allowed herself a full ten seconds. One-sixth of a minute, she lost herself in enjoying the omelette. She let the exquisite balance of egg, salt, chives and other herbs take hold of her senses for a relative eternity. Then she snapped out of it and methodically wolfed down the rest of her breakfast. She was done one and a half minute later, standing up the moment she swallowed the last bite. She then walked to her front door, checked her purse for everything she needed and strode out of her high-rise apartment.

The private elevator ride down to the parking garage was spent in productive silence as she stared at her customized news feed. All business news related to her profession was streamed directly to her phone, keeping her up to date on the things that occurred during the night.

She put the phone away the moment the elevator dinged, brusquely walking over to her car. The ride to her office was spent in silence as she prepared her mind for the day to come. She silently reviewed her to-do list, only briefly glancing at the calendar displayed on her phone. The rest of the way she stared out the tinted window of her armoured car while her private chauffeur drove her through rush-hour traffic.

People went silent when she stepped out of the car. Walking into the towering building, the lobby descended into hushed whispers. She ignored all of it. Felicia stepped into her private elevator and pressed the highest button.

What followed was a jam-packed day. Every single minute was spoken for, each second of her day deliberated weeks in advance. She met new people, scolded old people, made new deals, broke old traditions and generally did everything in her power to bring the company to new heights. She had a slight bout of anger as one of her secretaries failed to perform, making her wait an entire five minutes in between meetings. Felicia did not appreciate the free time she was allotted.

Instead, she spent this time in idle pondering. She thought about her life for a bit and did not like it at all. Was not the purpose of man to be too busy to notice their empty fate?

Felicia took her lunch with a spoiled scion laden with old money. Winding the fat boy around her finger was slightly tricky, and allowed her to lose herself in the delicate social dance. That is, until she recalled the seconds she wasted this morning as she enjoyed her breakfast. Her lunch eaten and her mood fouled, she spent the rest of the afternoon efficiently and ruthlessly directing everyone around and beneath her.

She might be hated by all who worked for her, but the results she provided to the shareholder spoke for themselves.

At the end of the day, Felicia stepped back into her car, exhausted. Not letting anyone see her tired state, she waited until she was back in her bed to let down her hair. It is thus a shame she never reached her destination.

All in all, the fact that a freak lightning strike took her from this world on her commute back home only reached the local newspapers. Her driver survived, somehow. The car was driving across an overpass when the cloudy sky unleashed its wroth. The thick streak of bright thunder found a fault in the automobile’s construction, evaporating the hind-section of the vehicle and leaving but a husk where an up-and-coming department head once sat.