My hair smells of violets I got the good shampoo I did some of the little tasks I was supposed to do I’m clean and somehow Now my mind is too? A shower actually helped? Wow, who knew!

I don’t get out much, but I’m perfectly fine with it. Order in, work from home, avoiding the outside is kind of my thing. That’s why at this moment my…skill is helping me survive. at least I think it will.

First everything around me starts shaking. I’m talking shelf’s, beds, lamps. But what concerns me is when the ground starts shaking, hard.

I crawl to my window and look out to see panic on the streets. Trees falling, cars crashing, it’s a mess out there. I need to stay inside and find a place far from anything that can crush me. But as I try crawling away on the shaking floor, sometimes catches my eye.

In one of the cars there’s a dead woman with her head smashed against the wheel but behind is a toddler.

No i can’t help her. Number one rule during earthquakes, stay in a building if your in one. Going out would be a suicide mission. And I haven’t been out in almost two year, what will that do to a man. Maybe I’ve become sensitive to the sun. Maybe I can only breath apartment air. But then it all stops. The shaking, the chaos, everything. Maybe I can go out, help the kid, and come back.

I run down the stares and start running across the street where the little blonde girl still cries. I’m almost there until the ground starts shaking again, but harder this time. I fall to the ground and hit my head so hard I wonder how I’m still alive. I need to get to her. I need to help her. I get up and begin crawling towards the car cautiously so I don’t fall. A car comes rolling towards me and I quickly dodge it by a inch.

When I get to the car the doors locked so I grab a brick nearby and smash the window in the front of the car. I unlock the door and open it. The toddler still bawling her eyes out cry’s, “my mommy”.

“It’s ok” I say as she clings on to me. “We’ll take your mom to the doctor, but now we need to take you somewhere safe.”

She hangs around my neck and as I try to walk away inching ever so slightly, a lamp post falls and crashes into the car.

“Oh God” I scream and the kid cries louder.

When it finally stop I collapse yo the ground and the kid fall in top of me. What am I going to do with this kid?

5 years later…

One year after the incident I adopted her. Her only family was her mother who died do you hitting her head against the wheel. Sasha’s been motivating me to get out. I began seeing a therapists throwing away my, I’m a grown man pride. I was diagnosed with social anxiety but Sasha’s been helping me through it. Next week I’ll be her chaperone for her fourth grade field trip to the science museum. A week later I’m going on my first date in ten years, and it’s all thanks to Sasha.

My world is both infinite and 800-square-feet wide. It consists of a kitchen, a dining nook, a bedroom, an office, and a gaming colosseum, where I, as DarkZion99, destroy an endless army of noobs on CosmosBrawl II™ with my legendary DeusInfinitum Sabre and Armor. Those on the NA23 server look at me like a god amongst casual players. I’ve never in my life received such love, respect, and admiration. The core of my world is the colosseum. Its $9,000 set up has been custom designed for long play sessions, to be used by a guy my size. My AVYX® 689-7 gaming chair was custom designed in my colors in the game, near-obsidian purple and neon green. My AVWing Premium 1 headset is considered the peak of headphone and microphone combination sets. My desktop computer cost over $4,200 in parts and customizations. It has some of the same components as NASA’s computers. Finally, I have a smart thermometer to ensure the temperature is perfect for both myself and my hardware. Within CosmosBrawl II™, or CB2, I lead a guild known as Erebus, ranked third in the entire world. We used to have over 5,000 players, but as it became more higher-ranking, we had to cut out the more casual player, boosting our stats like crazy. I hear most of them went to MegaWar, which is fine by me. CB2 is not about making friends. It’s about creating something never-before-accomplished. I have become so immersed into CB2 that I identify myself as DarkXion99 more than anything else. When I can’t be within CB2, Andy has to work. He’s an IT help desk professional for UUR Inc., forced to deal with idiots who don’t even know when their PCs need to be shut down. You wouldn’t believe the idiocy he has to deal with. At least Andy doesn’t have to leave the apartment to do the day job. But I won’t let him into the colosseum. Andy is reserved for the occasional Zoom meeting at work or when answering the door for food and groceries and Amazon deliveries. Every now and again, Andy will have to answer the parental units when they annoyingly want to FaceTime. Sure enough, Andy has to deal with their same damn questions.

No, Andy still hasn’t left the apartment in over 4 years. Yes, he still has all that weight he put on after all that divorce business. No, he doesn’t want to know that Carla from senior year is single again.

That’s why when Andy’s parents heard about the tragedy, they probably laughed. The ignorant, evil people that they are.

In the middle of a raid between Erebus and OnyxGods, my internet shut down. As I panicked, checking the ProKonnect, 3900 router I’ve installed, the fire alarm goes off. I’ve managed to bypass all “drills” in the past. Yet nowX I heard screaming from upstairs.

“Move! The building is on fire,” said someone out in the hallway.

Usually, these people are overreacting to a microwave incident gone bad. Yet this time, I heard sirens from outside. I tried desperately to get the power back on in my world. Something had to work!

No connectivity meant I cannot govern over Erebus, which means my leadership will be questioned. I did not earn QuadStar status to lose it. I log onto the mobile chat app and explain the situation.

“OMG, be safe, DarkXion!” says a hundred guild members.

Still, I know, the clock is ticking.

Before I could figure out what do to, the damn apartment door busts open in a million smithereens. A firefighter comes in in full suit, which does look like HydroHasmat low-level beasts.

“You’re awake? You need to get out, the building is on fire,” he says in a muddled voice.

“I’m not going anywhere,” Andy says.

Another firefighter comes in. The first one looks at me with disgust. I can see it through my eyes.

“We’re not going to be able to carry him,” says the other.

“We can’t just leave him,” says the first.

“My equipment is here,” I said.

“That’s what renal insurance is for,” the first said.

They grab poor Andy, and he resists. Two more men came in and, using all 4, they managed to carry him downstairs. Black smoke is heavy in the air.

“No! My equipment, my world, isn’t ready for this,” I say.

They suppress a smile as they force me to leave my world. I feel naked and exposed when they force me to stand alone as my neighbors gawk at each other. So exposed. So short. Andy has to do what he wasn’t to do. But someday, Zion will return as a champion drake ID. Someday.

I was awoken by the phone. The landline phone that was only used for emergencies. I didn’t get calls on that phone. The only one who knew that number was… I scrambled out of bed. And I nearly ripped the whole thing off the wall. “I can’t leave.” I said when I heard breathing. “You know-” “Momma is dead.” A roaring started in my ears. If they found her then I would be next. I didn’t travel like my brother. I didn’t even go outside. Everything was delivered. Everything I did was under a false name. Years of my existence hidden behind a wall of code mother has erected. And she was gone. “Meet me in the vineyard.” Rizero replied but I couldn’t hear it. The phone was already dust in my hands. And I leaned against the wall next to the hole I’d made. And I tried not to panic at the thought of going out for the first time in 37 years. Instead I did the breathing techniques the therapist had taught me. For exactly one minute I stood there with closed eyes and breathed. I could hear them. My neighbors startled whispers. The calls to the police department. Even the landlord stomping up the stairs. He didn’t even make it to my floor. When my front door burst open, I was already on the fire escape with my go bag in hand. There were people with guns guarding all the ground floor exits expecting me to run for the streets. But the roofs were more to my liking. I easily cleared the 20 foot jumps. And I ran. There was so much space. The air was so clean. And the city so beautiful under the night sky. It had been so long since I’d seen the stars. It made me lightheaded. Made me want to crawl in someone’s window and under the bed. But my brother needed me. So, I slipped down a drain pipe and into an alley. I picked the lock off a door at the very end and found myself in a storage room. Huge wine barrels filled the space. And I had no trouble moving them from a newly paved spot on the floor. I dug my fingers around the spot, digging out the new floor. And I slipped into the old tunnel replacing the floor as I did so. It was quiet. Dark. But there was no need for light as I followed the hint of fresh air with my nose. After an hour run I arrived in open air. And I stumbled back into the cave. Just one minute of breathing. One minute to calm my heart. To stop my shaking. My brother needed me. I stepped through the overgrown plants into the vineyard. Looking down at the ground I followed the sparkling stones set into the earth. Finally I was at the center where my brother waited with his hands up. “Sorry, sis.” He said without turning away from the five people aiming guns at him. “They caught up to me.” The leader stepped forward, her gun trained on me. “Now stop right there, Miss Forte. We’ve got you in your brother in our sights. Now if you come quietly there will be no need to spill blood tonight. Now raise your hands.” I let out a breathe. My hands were shaking now. I looked to my brother. “Is this the best option?” He nodded eyes still trained on the five people facing us. Only five! I chuckled. And I took a step forward. All guns shifted to me. “Stay where you are lady.” The captain said. But her eyebrows had drawn together. “We’ll come to you. Now raise your hands.” I laughed again and rushed her. Bullets pierced my skin. But it didn’t stop my punch. Her skull shattered under my fist. And I ran. A single kick broke ribs. An elbow broke a collar bone. And my heel pulverized a shoulder. The bullets stopped and I turned to my brother talking to the last one alive. I didn’t know what he said. The roaring was too loud. So I closed my eyes and breathed for exactly a minute. Rizero tapped on my shoulder. “I’ve got their boss’ coordinates. If we move now we can end this tonight.” “And then I can go back?” “I‘ve got another safe house for you in America. No one will bother you there.” I let out a breathe. “Then let’s go.”

It may seem bizarre to you, when I say that I haven’t ventured beyond my own threshold in many years. Long before the likes of Covid 19, I was convinced (still am) that some kind of pandemic would happen and the only way I would be safe was if I stayed in an environment alone. It no longer worries me, this obsession of mine. I don’t much care for people or what they think of me. This age is about survival, not socializing.

How can a person in this day and age stay in one location for years on end? It is unbelievably simple. I get everything I need delivered, prepaid, and left outside my apartment door. I use computer banking, eTransfer or PayPal. I see my doctor, mostly for minor ailments (I never get blood work done) with Skype.

When SARS hit Toronto years ago, I knew that the only way to survive the coming slew of new and worse viruses was to self isolate. For good. You see, I was a medic in the military, and I had realized during my service that the world would soon face warfare that was designed to appear randomly but which was all too calculated. It was a plan to reduce the world’s population, hatched by those who saw dollar signs when they thought of population decreases. We in the military were vaccinated almost weekly for things we had never heard of. I knew that this was a sign of things to come. SARS was just the beginning of it all.

I could have shared my knowledge with others but chose not to. They would just think me mad, another ‘conspiracy theorist’ to target in the media. No one would listen, I knew. But I think more would listen now, which is why I am writing this journal. At the first sign of getting ill, I will send it to those in the independent media. Perhaps it will help them make sense of what will, in time, become the reason for the extermination of more than half the world’s occupants.

This may happen sooner than I had imagined. Today I was forced to go outside and it was terrifying. But I had no choice. My best friend Louise, my companion of 20 years, had passed away in the night. I could not keep the body with me in such a small place as the bacteria that would work to decompose my friend could become lethal for me, as well. Neither could I incinerate the body myself, because I had only an electric stove.

First, there was the shock of realizing my cat wasn’t moving this morning, not up like usual, batting at my nose in her darling attempt to wake me. Instead, she lay cold and freakishly rigid in her wicker basket. I have seen many corpses in my duty as a medic, but none disturbed me more than seeing my dear friend dead. Poor Louise. At least she died peacefully from what I gathered. Just fell asleep and didn’t wake up. I hope that is exactly how I myself go, someday.

So, through my tears I decided that I had to venture outside, as far as the building’s dumpster. First, I removed her little plaid collar, worn with age and her claw marks from previous attempts to remove it herself. I placed it in my jewelry box, where I also kept my dog tags and an old photo of my parents, long since dead of Covid-19. At least they died together, hand in hand, after their ventilators were finally removed.

After the collar was gone, I brushed Louise’s lovely long fur one last time. The gorgeous tortoise colours still dazzled in the sunshine, just as beautiful as they had been the day I adopted her as a stray kitten. Her piercing green eyes closed forever, I wished I could see them open and looking at me with love, like they had been during all the days of my confinement. I longed to see her chirping at the little visiting birds that would rest upon the balcony railing and taunt her. She was allowed only that single freedom, to breathe the outside air and imagine she could one day catch a bird. On the fifth floor, that was all the freedom I could offer.

I wrapped her in a soft fleece blanket, one that had often lined her basket. Then I suited up, with my mask, plastic gloves and coveralls. I was willing to take this risk with my life, going outside. She was my only living relative and deserved to be put to rest properly. And I could not bear to keep her with me—the pain of the loss was too great, even for a seasoned veteran of war, like myself.

After carefully depositing her tiny body into the giant dumpster, I quickly scrambled back upstairs to my safe place, took a very hot shower and sanitized myself fully. I am trying not to let my thoughts run rampant, imagining the microbes from outdoors burrowing into me, the deadly contagions I may have inadvertently caught.

A sad day, I must say. I have retrieved her collar and am holding it, fingering its bumps and ridges, jingling the tags aimlessly. I down a scotch before bed, because for once it is truly required.

It has been a week since Loise left me. Compounding her loss is my own illness, which started yesterday—the first time I have been sick since I self-isolated. Chills, headache, body aches. I soon realized the situation was worse than I thought. I had not been on the balcony since the day before Louse passed, so it was horrifying to go out, expecting fresh air to revive my spirit but instead finding the mutilated remains of a dead sparrow. Disgusted by yet another deathly image, I kicked that retched thing off the balcony, watching in plummet to the distant ground.

I contacted my on-line physician, explaining my symptoms in detail. I told him that I had been outside just to dispose of my cat’s corpse—that other than that I had not been out in contact with others for many years. His eyes showed sympathy, which touched me. I thought perhaps he knew what it meant to lose such a dear pet. But that was not the reason for his empathy.

He asked whether the cat was allowed outdoors and I reassured him that the balcony was as far as she was ever allowed. Did she ever come into contact with birds, he asked. I remembered the ripped apart remains of the sparrow, and of course she had been the little victor, finally catching one on her last day. I told him about it. He asked if I had been watching the news and I of course said no, since the news is all full of misinformation, half-truths or complete lies. Few people even bothered anymore.

He explained that despite my efforts to stay safe, that a new, fast-progressing virus had been active in the city in the past week. It seemed to travel from birds to animals that prey on them, then, oddly, to humans through mere contact with infected animals. It was called BARS. My symptoms matched those reported in the humans who had already caught it and died within a few days. Its death rate was 75%, for those who had it. Given my extended exposure, age and current symptoms, he felt I should remain isolated and hope for the best.

I am waiting for the outcome of my current situation. The saddest realization I face is that my infected cat has now moved on and potentially been touched and could contribute to the coming annihilation of our city’s humans.

Please, those who read this, know that my intention was never to harm anyone, least of all myself. My fever is still high and I find it increasingly difficult to breathe. Yet, I cannot go to hospital because I have been told to stay home. The chance of my spreading the awful thing is too high to risk exposing the workers or patients to it by going for help. Now I am here, and for the first time, I wish I could be in a medical centre. Anywhere but here.

As I hold Louise’s collar in my shaking hand, I realize that it may not be long before we are together again.

The upper West Side neighborhood in New York City are the epicenter of affluence. Pre-war brick brownstones and over-the-top retail stores define the character. That's why Garret Masterson bought an apartment after graduating from NYU.

Growing up in the Back Bay area around Boston he was always around money, expected money, craved money and the power it delivered. Summers in Marthas Vineyard and skiing in Switzerland were normal to him. His father was the founder of a pharmaceutical company and spared no expense for his wife and four children.

Garrett had a way with people. A weird animal magnetism that drew them into his web. He had lots of opportunities to ply his trade like a Wall Street investment banker. Things were going great for him. Women, booze, trips to Europe. Living the high life in a high rise until he heard from the family attorney. The words embezzlement and prison stung him like a thousand bees. A selfish ass, he realized in an instant that all his fun and games just dried up. That was the moment he became a recluse and locked himself away. The only person he trusted was the doorman, Paul.

He ordered his groceries for him. Scheduled in house doctor visits and other medical appointments. He even had the ability to convince some women to go up for “girl friend visits.” For a price of course. Paul became his best friend, his confidant, although they never met face to face. Until the day the world changed forever.

The CDC nicknamed it Russian Fever because it came out of Siberia, and spread across the entire European continent within weeks. Seven out of ten people were killed within days decimating city after city.

Garret watched it all from inside his apartment. Paralyzed with fear. Wanting it to go away. Willing it and praying for it to stop. Yet he needed to see the destruction up close. The inner turmoil was too much. He snapped. Bolting out of his apartment and sprinting down the ten flights of stairs and out into the dilapidated lobby, where one lonely, dirty man was sitting in a wilted chair. Coming face to face with the stranger, Garrett blurted out, “Paul. Are you Paul. Oh Paul, Paul my friend. I'm so happy you're alive.”

Turning his ashen face toward Garrett, his throat dry from being sick, he whispered: “Everyone is dead.” Then collapsed in a heap next to chair.

Last night I heard a strange noise. It was like someone screaming , but it didn’t sound human.

‘Bloody kids. They could turn their TVs down before they go to bed.’

Of course I went back to sleep. I mean, what else what I supposed to do.

This morning however, things got very strange. I ended up doing that thing. The thing that I swore I wouldn’t do all those years ago.

It all began with a knock on the door. I did what I usually did and ignore it! However, the knocking got louder and louder.

“Come on. We have to get out of here. We have to get to the safe place or we will change like the others.” I stood at the door and heard “No, no. It’s here. Please leave me. I …….” The words were replaced by an ear piercing scream.

I wasn’t sure how to react to this. My mind was telling me that I should leave. However, my heart was saying ‘Stay. Stay. You don’t want to be out there’. As I stood there, my mind was made up when I heard screaming voices.

Much to my surprise, I grabbed a rucksack and a small carry on bag which I filled with what I needed. I took one look out in to the corridor it was strewn with people. I didn’t bother looking if they were dead or not. (I didn’t want to know!) Instead I grabbed my stuff and headed for the fire escape.

I looked around me. This was outside. I sat down and looked up. The sky was filled with, what looked to be, large squares. Ships of some sort? I could see the sky swarming with creatures.

I looked down at the people as they were being pushed along the street. My mind was full of fear & loathing. Fear of the unknown and fear of what I did know. I knew that the strange things were dangerous but I knew that being outside could be even worse.

However, my mind won out again and I made my way down the fire escape to the street. I was carried along with the throng of humanity. I listened to the voices calling out about what was happening. Suddenly I found myself joining in. I felt more alive that I had ever done before.

Maybe, even in such extremes as this, outside wasn’t as bad as I remembered. Only time will tell.

There was a process to leaving her apartment. Any sound from the elevator triggered a sweat storm and multiple trips to the toilet before the door handle was even turned. Creating just the right time window was imperative to protecting her time at home. Not too early so that there is no place to hide before work started. Not too late to impact what time she could end her shift and go straight home.

There was enough fresh food in the fridge to last through the weekend. That was an important detail as it was the hardest time for her to be outside. Any other food or personal necessities were in the cupboards, with extra in the closet to avoid leaving the house except for work.

Habitual routines were created to ensure that no extra thought was required and to avoid overthinking any situation. She would only take the 6 train home. She was one stop after an express stop. But she didn’t want to transfer to the local and change trains. The lesser of two evils was to find one spot on one train and ride it out. It was only a short block from the subway exit to the front door of her building. And still just enough that she struggled to hold her breath as she traveled in between these two entrances.

Living on the 6th floor, two from the top, there was always a greater chance of more people traveling in the elevator with her regardless of what direction. Luckily there weren’t too many tenants on each floor. She worked an earlier schedule so she was able to sneak in and out without having to speak to her neighbors. The last connection to any person was her phone. The landline would be unplugged because she didn’t want to hear it ring. She knew people would check in on her or friends just wanted to say hi. There was nothing she wanted outside of her apartment.

In the early 2000’s there weren’t many opportunities to work from home or any convenient grocery delivery services otherwise she would never leave again. Her bed was soft with 500 thread count sheets and pillows for days. Candles were everywhere so that she didn’t have to smell the fumes of trash and car exhaust outside of her window every night. The fan was near the left side of the bed so that she could stay under the covers and not overheat. The TV stand was her only other piece of furniture. She ate on the floor or her bed. She never had anyone over so there were no table or chairs. It’s all she needed.

If there was ever a fire in her building and she needed to evacuate, she wouldn’t know what to grab first. Her entire life was in that tiny studio. That tiny studio was her only safety zone in the galaxy. The anxiety of who would be on the stairs and how she could get out to the park so she could breath was overwhelming. Disappearing in a sea of people was the only sanctuary she would find in that moment, if just to breath.

In a situation of a hurricane flooding the city she would contemplate staying in her apartment, regardless of any risk. She was less afraid of water than of fire. They would have to take her out against her will. At least in that scenario she would have enough time to pack some items before the rest of her cocoon was destroyed. Bags were already packed with necessary documents like passports, birth certificates and photos as well as her backup favorite hat and hoodie. It’s the only way she liked to travel. It shut down any potential conversion and diverted attention away from her long hair and body that was over sexualized by men.

It’s not that she was antisocial or had no friends. Empty conversation was not what she was looking for. She couldn’t fake her disinterest. She had nothing to offer in a circle of gossip and self promoting individuals. Random niceties with strangers were avoided with headphones and sunglasses. The anxiety from any social situation tore up her stomach. She couldn’t stop losing weight. Being outside of her apartment was the most uncomfortable situation she could ever be in…regardless of where or with whom.

As long as there was no fire, nothing could bring her outside of her safe place.

Knock knock knock

Repeated on James’ door for several minutes until he finally pushed himself up off his old, far past its prime couch - vibrant red many moons ago, it was almost grey from decades of cigarette smoke and wear. He grunted heavily as his body found and upright position and his feet found a rickety path to the front door of his apartment.

He peeked out the peephole. It was dirty, but he could just make out the face of his usual Instacart delivery person, and their unmistakeable scruffy teal hair. He opened the door slowly - hell, at his age he did everything slowly.

“Hiya Mr. H!” Trinitee’s shrill voice rang out, so loud it nearly echoed thru the empty hallway. James winced.

“Thank you.” He said quickly, scrambling for his grocery bags.

Before he could grab his final bag, two uniformed police officers came storming around the corner and down the hall towards them. “We need everybody to evacuate the building immediately!” They called.

James stood in his doorway, still holding a grocery bag, seemingly dazed as his neighbours left their apartments and filed out towards the stairwell.

“Mr. H, do you need help down the stairs?” Trinitee asked, extending their hand.

“Down. The. Stairs.” James repeated, half questioning half repeating.

“Yeah, so we can get outside.” They said, pulling back and reextending their hand out to him. James came back to reality as he heard the word “outside”. He looked down at Trinitee’s hand and slapped it away.

Trinitee glared up at him, tears welling in their eyes. James clocked this and his gaze softened.

“I’m sorry.” He said. “I’ve barely left this apartment, let alone this building, in over ten years. But that’s no excuse. I should never strike a woman.”

Trinitee grimaced and rolled her eyes at the word ‘woman’ but replied “So, you gonna stay and tell the pigs to suck it? I’m sure they’re just looking to clear out witnesses for whatever they’ve got going on.”

James scoffed. “They are not ‘pigs’” he said, holding up air quotes “They are law enforcement. And I’m sure there’s a reason they’re clearing everyone out of the building, much as I might detest it.”

Trinitee stared at him a moment, unimpressed. “So, you going then?” They asked, gesturing towards the stairwell.

James huffed and pushed past them towards the glowing exit sign at the top of the stairs. Trinitee trotted behind him.

——

James took the final step down to the main floor, huffing and puffing as he tried to catch his breathe, Trinitee following right behind him. As he made his way to the double doors in front of the building he stopped.

“You good, Mr. H?” Trinitee chirruped. They scooted around him and held the door open for him. As sunlight came pouring into the lobby, James shielded his eyes with his hand.

“Say kid, could I borrow those sunglasses?” He asked, pointing to the blueish aviator sunglasses hanging off Trinitee’s instacart shirt collar.

They looked confused for a moment, but obliged, still holding the door open with one hand.

Once he had the sunglasses situated on his face, James slowly sauntered outside, into the world he had - up until now - been able to avoid thanks to modern miracles like delivery services and Telehealth.

The summer sun beat down on his face, the tops of his feet his slippers didn’t cover, and his exposed arms, unprotected by his typical tattered T-shirt. The sunglasses did little to keep his eyes from feeling like they were on fire, the sunglasses seeming to be more fashionable than useful.

The sounds of the city were no better, assaulting his ears with cars, busses, police sirens, and endless chatter from the crowd across the street that Trinitee was making their way to just a few steps ahead of him, while still turning to look back at him. James met their gaze and pressed on slowly until he got to the edge of the crowd.

He lamented in his misery being outside in the city, trying but failing to focus on the nap he’d most likely have when he got back to his apartment. He only refocused on the outside world when Trinitee came back up to him, giving him quite a start as she began rambling.

“Sooooo, I heard from my friend Shawna, who actually only lives 3 floors above you, well, she heard there was a bomb threat called into the front desk and that’s why the police cleared everyone out of the building. Gods, this city man, it’s something else.”

Without missing a beat James replied “Only 7.5 percent of bomb threats are legitimate. Someone just wanted attention and-“

He was stopped mid sentence by a loud noise, and then a rumbling. The rest of the crowd noticed too, and began to scatter, screaming. Trinitee grabbed James wrinkled hand, pulling him as fast as they felt comfortable pulling an elderly man down the street.

The 30 story apartment building went down, imploding into itself into rubble. James felt as though his vision and hearing were blurring, he had glimpses of search and rescue dogs, civilians crying as they had just lost their homes. He had just lost his home. His solitude. He felt queasy. He hardly noticed that Trinitee was still hanging around right beside him, offering their multicolour handkerchief to him.

He hadn’t even noticed the few stray tears rolling down his own face. Wordlessly he accepted it, roughly blotting his tears and shoving it back towards them.

Trinitee accepted it and tucked it into their pants pocket. They thought for a minute.

“Would you like to come stay with me?” They asked.

I was never an outside type of person. I couldn’t get myself to go outside, or hang out with friends. It’s hard for me to find something to do, so I just sit down on my couch and miss it all. Some people call me an introvert, but some people think I miss out cause I just don’t like people….I can see where people get that from, but I don’t like how people are just guessing about me…I wish I have the motivation, the time to actually go out and do stuff. When I do, nothing looks good to go to or the weather is bad. It feels like I have bad luck overall…

I sat at my desk, writing notes down for my college classes. I was almost done, everything was so nice and organized. The title of the lesson is written in jet black ink, bold and underlined. Most of the notes were written in sky blue ink but when it is something important, I either underline or write it in blood red ink. It was very neat and I was proud of it. I was about to finish up when my phone rang. I look over at my phone, slowly.

“Nico…?” I mumbled before picking up my phone. I held it to my ear after I press the answer button.

“Vincent, hey buddy! What are you doing?” Nico said, excitingly.

It’s his own tone of voice, I never heard someone this excited as him before. He’s usually excited over the little things. For example, a new book came out in the book store. Nothing big and not very popular, but Nico will get so excited that he will rush over there the minute he gets the news. It makes me smile that he enjoys himself, being a bit carefree in life.

“Hey Vince, still there?”

I sat up in my seat slightly as I snap out of my thoughts, “O-Oh sorry, I zoned out a bit..”

I heard Nico chuckle, “That’s all good, never mind what I said. I do have a question for you.”

I nod, “Really, what is it?”

There was a pause from Nico. I sat in my seat awkwardly as I waited for his answer. Why is he not saying his question now? Is it that important? Did something happen to him? Maybe he was kidnapped. Or he passed out. Just talk, please!

“Can you…hang out with me this weekend..?” Nico ask, finally answering.

I froze. Did he just say what I think he said…? I never thought someone would even invite me. Not even now since college exams are coming up. Yet, something could go wrong- no I can’t think of the wrong now! This is your only chance, you have to ride or die on this.

I took a deep breathe and answered, “Yes, I would love to go.”