As my alarm goes off, the sun’s rays burn upon my face. My eyes painfully open to the bright light and I am blinded momentarily. It is another moment longer that I do not see that the clock is several minutes past when I am supposed to have woken up. Immediately when I see the time, I groggily get out of bed and carry myself to the restroom, making sure to not hit the corners of my bedroom door as I stumble out. In the restroom, I prepare a shower and while the water is warming up, I set up my sink so that I can shave my face when I get out of the shower.

 

The shower water takes a couple of minutes to warm up, which gives me plenty of time to clean up the trash of empty boxes of hygiene products that surround my sink. I dispose of them into the trash can, which I have neglected to put another bag in. The boxes spill out of the trash can, for I have also neglected to throw out the old waste products in it from the days before.

 

I look at myself in the mirror, there is a light on only half of my face, for only my left side lightbulb is still on. The light bulb on the right burned out such a while ago that I can’t remember the exact date. It is because of this that I have a harder time being able to make out the finer details.

 

My shower water has still not fully warmed up, but it has warmed up enough to where I am comfortable enough with it. In any case, it’s not fully warm water anyway, some cold water seems like it streams out alongside it and so there is this feeling of hot and cold which never decides upon itself. At the very least, I can thank my landlord for finally having a plumber come over to fix the water pressure for all the showers in my apartment complex. It felt like for months that water would merely drip over my body as I bathed.

 

I strip down to nothing as I prepare to step into the shower. When I go in, I reach my hand out to my side of the bathtub for my soap. My girlfriends soap falls over the soap dish on the other side, I pick it up and put it back where it was, only for it to fall again. The second time it falls, the top of it busted open, and I quickly needed to take it out and put it upright on my now-roomy sink area. She [my girlfriend] has not been home in a while, with no immediate plans of returning, so it will not be even a minor inconvenience that this has happened.

 

After I finish up in the restroom, I return to the bedroom. I have been dreading this moment, for I have not had time to go to the laundromat this past weekend. All my clothes are dirty and piled up in the weak and well-used laundry basket in the corner. I dump out all my clothes on the floor and try to think in my head of what clothes I wore for the least number of days before I put it in the laundry, when I settle on an outfit, I sniff to make sure it is the freshest. I determine it is and spray it with a fabric freshener. As I put on my underwear and white undershirt, I hear the phone ring in the living room.

 

I run out of the bedroom and into the living room, the speed at which I did this did not give me enough time to remember that the pull-out couch has still not been put up. I trip over it and fall onto the shaggy carpeted floor. When I get up, I feel the sting of carpet burn on my arm, which I focus on for several seconds before the phone rings again and takes me outside of myself. I quickly pick it up, fearing the wrath of my manager who I assume is the caller.

“Um hello?”

“Zoey! You have not shown up to work for several weeks---”

“---What? No this is Adrian speaking.”

“Who? Get Zoey on the phone, I need to speak to her”

“Uhm, well she hasn’t been home, she’s been in the hospital.”

“Well, this is the first time I’m hearing about this.”

“Did the hospital not call your office? They told me they would do that.”

“No, I haven’t received not one call from any hospital.”

There is a silence for a few seconds.

“But uhm also, who are you? Why are you telling me this about Zoe?”

“I’m her boyfriend.”

“The significant other, right. Hmm okay well, I’ll need you to tell Zoey that she needs to come back to work---”

“But she’s in the hospital, she can’t just come back right now.”

“Well unless she provides a doctor’s note, she will be receiving disciplinary action for no-call, no-showing to work.”

“But she hasn’t been able to come in! How can you punish her for being in the hospital?”

“Well, she didn’t tell us she’s been sick. Speaking of, she doesn’t have any sick leave days either.”

“But---”

“So have her or the hospital call us, or she will be marked for disciplinary action.”

The other end hastily hangs up.

I frustratedly return to my bedroom and finish getting clothed. Afterward, I rush out the door with my work satchel in my hand and throw it over myself out the door to carry it crossbody. I sprint past the musty and aged hallway, its scent of smoke and ash, white walls yellowed from the years of exposure from warm lights in the ceiling, trash cans overfilling, with the drunkards now having to leave their bottles next to them. I stand at the elevator door, while I wait for it to open, I can hear the same couple arguing loudly with each other in the room across to the elevator on the east. I can’t say at this point that it still disturbs me.

 

The elevator finally creaks open. As it does, I see my next-door neighbor step out. An Asian-American immigrant down on her luck, she walks slowly, tired after a long night as a graveyard shift worker. My conscience grows as I ask if she needs any help getting to her apartment, though I still fear that it will make me later for work. She declines my offer for help in any case. The elevator door almost closes in on her as she’s standing in the middle of it when it starts to close, I immediately jump in and grab her arm, pulling her out of the way. After she realizes what almost happened, she thanks me. The elevator doors do not detect if a person is standing in the way, so in the past there have been injuries linked to (mostly disabled) people having limbs crushed by the doors closing on them.

 

Now I must wait for the elevator to open again. As I stand there, I count sheep. I can imagine a farm full of sheep and that I am the herder of them. The argumentative couple scream at each other again, and I am broken out of my daydream of sheep farming. I counted 15 sheep before the doors opened once again, and I descended to the first floor.

 

As I exit through the first floor’s lobby doors, I head to my car in the parking lot. I turn the key in the ignition, and I hear the troublesome squealing sound. Nevertheless, it starts successfully after a couple of tries and I am driving to the office.

 

I turn on the radio in my car and tune into the news station, the reporter is talking about the company that I work for (Snap-e Computer, Inc.) and their latest stock price projections, alongside the excitement for investors surrounding their burgeoning robotics development arm. It’s relevant to me since I have been working in accounting in this branch of the company.

 

As I’m on the highway to work, I see some road work is being done. At first when I see the pickup trucks and highway workers, I assume that it is to fill in the potholes they’re surrounded by. I would find out that they are just paving more road on the side so that drivers can pull into the parking lot of a new business being constructed. I turn my head back onto the road before me just in time to see a concrete barrier I need to drive around. As I drive around the barrier, I make note in my head that the barrier seems to be blocking off nothing of significance, as the pothole it is blocking still has not been filled for as long as the barrier has stood there.

 

Along my ride I look to my surroundings on both sides, checking for other signs of life such as another car, cyclist, or pedestrian. Before me lies on the east an unkempt public park with broken playground equipment and a forest seeing its own destruction at the hands of logging companies in the downtown area. On the west I saw the new business being built like before, but also more road and then further down a dollar store. The dollar store appears busy already. On both sides of me I can see electrical grids going for what seems like forever.

 

The sight of concrete bridge railing on the road distinguishes to drivers like myself that I am not very far from downtown Juno, where the business center lies. In the distance I can see shining skyscrapers, what appears to be structures constructed of nothing but glass and sparkling sunlight. The bright sun is intensified, its rays shooting in all directions as it bounces off the glass. If there were a lack of nature on the ride before, it has now completely disappeared as more buildings pop in for where the nature would be.

 

Downtown Juno can give claustrophobics a sense of impending doom the further they go in. All the space is occupied as much as physically possible with buildings and billboards near them, electronic screens that show advertisements often and the time of day less often. Above me on some roads is an overpass for a high-speed train system that only goes downtown and on the ground around me, immaculate roads which seemingly never crack.

 

Getting through not just the congestion of the downtown around me but also its accompanying traffic -which always seem to be jammed, - I am now able to pull into the multistory parking lot at work. I specifically pull into my assigned spot when I see a stark reminder to do so, in that they are towing my coworker’s car.

 

It is now time for me to walk into work. After I get past the revolving doors, I clock in at the monitor in the front office and I walk up to the elevator, it goes down smoothly with only an electrical hum accompanying its descent. When the doors open, it makes a jingle, which I always take as a signal to step to the side. A crowd of businessmen walk out and into the lobby, loudly communicating with each other. I step into the elevator alongside my other coworkers.

 

When I reach the floor, I am overwhelmed by the loud commotion of disgruntled office workers. I think to myself, ‘Already?’

 

I settle into my cubicle and as I am sitting down, I receive a hefty stack of papers plopped down onto my desk next to my keyboard. I see the same loud office workers having received a similarly sized stack of papers and asking how they are supposed to have their tasks for the project done by the short deadline given. Our management does not give us a clear answer.

 

“Ah, so since upper management wants to line their already fat f**cking pockets, I have to stay here all day on this s**t?”

 

“Who was gonna tell us about project beforehand huh? Or do I only get to know if I’m a broker?”

 

“I don’t mind doing all of this work, but can’t you at least extend the deadline?! I’ve got children to pick up after work!!!”

 

I try to tune out the noise as I begin to cycle through the papers, it is however not long before I am distracted by my phone. I check the caller ID and it reads “Juno Central Hospital.” I question for several seconds as it rings whether to pick up, deciding between the possibility of having to console my girlfriend or address my newly acquired major accounting project that’s due in the next 2 weeks.

I pick up the phone.

“Adrian? Hey, you forgot to call me this morning.”

“Oh yeah I’m sorry, yeah I got out of bed awful late. Slept in because they’ve been keeping me in the office later.”

“Oh yeah, no that totally makes sense. You aren’t too busy right now, right?”

“I am yeah. But anyway, how are you? …Have you begun to feel better?”

“No. I’m just---no I mean no I’m fine. I mean, kind of. You know?”

“…You don’t sound too sure. Do you need me to come---?”

“No! Not right now at least. I mean if you want to then… I uhm…”

“…?”

Zoeline’s voice from here becomes noticeably choked up.

“Adrian, there’s something… I have to-something I need t-to tell you…”

“…? Y-yes?”

“I don’t know how to tell you.”

“…”

I begin to worry.

“Zoey, I’m confused.”

“Adr---”

“What’s wrong?”

Zoeline audibly sobs, “I’m sorry! I… I c-can’t tell you, I t-thought I could I r-really did, I had prepared myself so much and I was really trying to---”

“Zoey! Hey… don’t worry, I’m sorry that I even pushed for an answer. Just take the time you need, I’ll be here, alright?”

My manager sees me on my phone in the corner of his eye, and I feel like he knows for sure that I’m not taking a business call.

“Uhm hey, I’ll talk to you later… alright?” 

I must hang up on her while she is crying when my manager confronts me at my cubicle.

“Mr. King, what was the purpose of your call?”

“Oh, it was a uhm… ahem, a business call, sir.

“What I was hearing did not sound very formal.”

“Well, I---”

“It sounded more like you were taking a personal call, from the uhm… from how it came off.” There is a momentary silence as he and I prepare our answers for each other, the mood is of each side trying to predict the others response. “Is there anything you’d like to tell me?”

“I mean, could you even name one thing I said that sounded like---”

“Oh yeah I could, you were saying something about how you were sorry you ‘pushed for an answer,’”

“Uhm yeah I was sorry that I pushed for an answer regarding a uhm, business inquiry. Yeah.”

“What kind of business inquiry?”

“…”

“…?” The managers eyebrow raises.

I hastily add, “It’s none of your business.”

The manager chuckles, “Sir, if---”

“It’s literally none of your business. That’s all I can say on the inquiry---”

“IF I catch you on your phone again for a personal matter again, it will be a write-up.”

The manager does a heel turn before he can see the look on my face of disapproval. I mutter to myself, “Yeah, who would replace me if I were fired right now?”

 

As the workday drags on, and the sun finally sets when it is my time to clock out 11 hours later, I look over to see the amount of work that I have yet to complete. I would feel more dread regarding it if it weren’t so hopeless to do so. None of my worrying will make my workload decrease by any number.

 

It is now 8:00 PM, which means I only have a couple of hours to get to sleep if I have any plans of waking up on time for the next day at work. This thought occupies my mind on the car ride back and though I am already dog tired, I fear that I will begin to wake up again now that I am out of the office. I try to remember if I have any sleeping aids at my house to help my brain shut down enough to sleep and I practice my breathing exercises to ease my tension and anxiety. It is not helping my mind wander to the possibility that I may be crawling around in bed for a couple of hours before I finally fall into slumber, I also think that if I do it will be because there are still not fully digested sugars from my fifteen-minute lunch break earlier.

 

Then I remember that it is a Friday. I have Saturday and Sunday off, I do not need to worry so much about being unable to wake up for work the next day, my mind instantly eases.

 

But now I remember that this means I have time to visit my girlfriend at the hospital. I make an immediate U-turn on the empty road, tires skidding and all, and head to Juno Central.

 

I arrive at the hospital and wait in the lobby. I must apologize if I came off as impatient to the staff, my mind could only wander to my numerous theories regarding my girlfriend’s condition. She could not bear to tell me how she had felt, I have never seen her unable to tell me anything. She and I are always open with each other, no matter how much it may hurt to know the hard truths, should the discussion come to that.

 

I can only conclude in my own mind that, seeing as she has a spinal condition, she may never be able to walk again. Though I must understand that this is merely an anxious thought of my own that is unwarranted, the doctors have been telling me that her health is improving, and she will be able to fully move once she leaves physical therapy and spinal operations. But it is that possibility which occupies my mind, that she may never be able to walk again, which haunts me.

 

I come up with other possible theories, the chronic catastrophizer that I am. She has cancer! Pretty unlikely, she didn’t show any signs before she came in. She’s pregnant! We haven’t had sex lately; she’s been stuck here in this hospital so there is very low likelihood of that being true. She caught something here! Well then it must be an awful hospital. That’s it! The hospital made her sick, they didn’t take adequate cleanliness procedures! And she has cancer! And she’s pregnant!

 

My name is called in the lobby that I may now go visit her [Zoeline], which brings me back to reality. I step into the elevator and go up to the floor with her room.

 

I walk up to her bed, and I look at her. She has only been getting thinner and thinner lately, her movements are weaker. Her eyes no longer have as dark of circles under them, a visible sign she has gotten more sleep. I help adjust her blanket, as she had felt cold before I came in. I throw away old food wrappers that fell on the floor, I wonder why she simply couldn’t walk to the trash can to throw them away, she’s usually good about picking up after herself.

I say to her to start the conversation, “Hey, I’m sorry I had to hang up like that earlier.”

“Oh! It’s fine.”

“Really?”

“Absolutely yeah. I wasn’t… I still needed time to uhm, figure out some things.”

“…”

“Figure out how to say what I was trying to say. I’ve been really thinking hard about it.”

“Oh hey, that’s great. It’s… always good to think about your word choices.”

“You know I am very eloquent.” She softly laughs after saying, which I also do as well. Then an awkward silence begins to compliment the already awkward atmosphere.

I break the silence, “So uhm heh, hey what did you want to say anyway? …If you thought of the right words, of course.”

“Oh of course, what I wanted to say was uhm…”

“…”

“There’s no easy way to say these things, you know. It’s like, hey! Haha, uhm… …you think of some words to say and then you think to yourself, those aren’t the right way to say something difficult! How would you feel if someone just told it to you like that huh?! And then also there’s not just like, the way you say it but what you exactly MEAN when you say it.” She starts visibly shaking, her voice begins to break up. “I-it’s also, it’s kind of like as well, it’s sort of like uhm, l-like uhm, how when you know a t-thing that you fear to b-be the truth, that you’ve always suspected is true, and then it becomes---it turns out to be t-true I mean---”

“Zoe, it’s clear you need more time. I don’t want to stress you out about this, if you need more time, we can just change the topic---” Uncharacteristically, she interrupts me. She tries to croak a word, but it’s held back by a sob.

“I-I’ll never be a-able to w-walk a-again!!!” She softly says in her tears.

My heart dropped.

“I-I didn’t k-know how t-to tell y-you… I t-thought t-the d-doctors…” She is inconsolable at this point.

I give her a hug, and let her head rest on my shoulder.