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“Shit, where’s my phone?” I searched through my blankets, only to realize I hadn’t plugged it in. Of course, I hadn’t woken to my alarm; it can’t alarm me if it’s dead.
I tossed the dead phone to the side of my bed and the most spectacular stretch took hold of me, tears kissing my lashes as I yawned. “I’m up, I’m up. Sorry, I didn’t sleep well.”
Maybe it was the sleepiness that made me almost regret agreeing to go shopping. The thought of being in a densely populated area wasn’t particularly thrilling either, but a new fuzzy sweater might be enough to make it worthwhile. I knew the trip wouldn’t be a total drag, as Kat had this magical way of making even the most mundane tasks enjoyable.
She took my hand, pulling me away from the comfortable clutches of my bed. My warm blankets sung to me, sweet as sirens, but I did my best to resist their sweet temptations as I stood. My body ached, as if I’d tossed and turned all night, and the voice in my dream lingered in the back of my mind. It was just a painful reminder of the loneliness I struggled with. I sighed; there was no time to dwell on it.
Kat’s coppery, curly hair bounced over her shoulders as she hopped into my swivel chair near my desk. Freckles dotted her perfect nose and perfect cheeks, and deep-set green eyes peered through thick curled eyelashes. She was absolutely beautiful in every way.
Next to her, I looked like a train wreck.
I sifted through my closet in search for something that might at least scratch the surface of cute and stylish, so I didn’t look like a cave goblin next to Kat. Eventually, I settled on a simple sweater and jeans, and I threw my curly hair into a messy bun. I hurried to my bathroom to splash water over my face and down my medicine before I returned to my room, ready to go.
I tilted my head into my bedroom doorway to see Kat flipping through one of my books. “Come on, loser! Let’s go shopping!”
She set the book aside, and a coy grin curled the corners of her lips as she jumped to her feet. I tossed my bag over my shoulder, and we headed downstairs to the living room.
My apartment wasn’t anything particularly fancy or special. When I turned eighteen, my parents rented the other half of the two-story duplex that we’d lived in since I was a child. I’d outgrown my room, and my parents felt it was only right that I have my own space, which I was immeasurably thankful for.
There wasn’t much in terms of decoration as I lived on a limited budget, just the standard furniture. Shelves lined the walls around my couch, displaying my collection of books I’d built up over my lifetime. Books were the one thing I didn’t fret to spend money on; as they were one of my few outlets. In the front room near the entry stood my easel, desk, and an array of various art supplies.
A pile of paints lay tucked away in the corner of the desk, untouched in the four years since I’d gravitated toward charcoal. On the easel stood a large pad of paper displaying an unfinished portrait of Kat I’d been working on for the last few weeks. I could spend hours in that seat, sketching and drawing out intricate details of animals and people. It helped me unload the thoughts that plagued my mind sometimes, giving me something to focus on.
When we passed the hall that led to the kitchen, I paused. It would probably be smart to find something to eat, but the thought of food nauseated me, so I headed for the front door. Very rarely did I have much of an appetite this early in the day. I’d just have to find something at the mall when hunger finally kicked in.
Past the front porch, the street sloped downward along the mountainside. Cracked asphalt roads told the story of an old town, rich with history. Houses lined both sides of my street, squeezed tightly together with just enough room for the alleys that ran between them; cars were parked parallel here and there along the sidewalks.
As I made my way down the porch steps, I looked out, down into the valley of the city. My home, Johnstown, was an old industrial town in Pennsylvania, famously known for a catastrophic dam failure that flooded the city, killing thousands in the late 1800s. History and age had carved its way into the very bones of the city, staining it in a way that wouldn’t fade until long after I was gone. I wished that I could leave a mark like that.
Kat walked around the front of her little, green Volkswagen beetle and hopped in the driver’s side as I situated myself in the passenger seat. The moment she turned the key, Paramore’s “Ain’t It Fun” filled the car, blaring from her radio. She reached across and turned the volume down just enough for us to hear each other.
“So, that guy Cody I was telling you about last night—”
“You mean the one you talked my ear off about for an hour?” I was unable to resist teasing her.
She brushed off my words. “Well, we were texting last night after we got off the phone, and he asked me out! Like out out, not just on a date!”
“Not surprised there. He obviously liked you enough to give you a ticket to a concert.” He sounded like a nice guy and from what she’d told me, they had a lot in common. She deserved that happiness, and I hoped that he stuck around long enough to help ease the pain of my passing when the time came.
Hearing her talk about him on our drive fueled that selfish desire for my own relationship. But no matter how badly I wanted to, I couldn’t allow myself to give into that desire to find love. It would be cruel for me to want a relationship with someone, knowing how it would end, that it wouldn’t just be the pain of a breakup they’d endure.
Our favorite song came on the radio, and I reached to turn the volume up as Kat’s melodious voice reached my ears. I hoped the music would distract me from my lonely thoughts as the emptiness swelled in my chest, but it wasn’t loud enough, not enough to drown out these thoughts.
* * *
The late afternoon sun was beginning its decent into the mountains as we pulled into the parking lot of The Galleria. I peered around at the few cars parked around us. Thank God for the smaller crowds of a weekday. I didn’t particularly like crowds. It wasn’t so much that I hated people; I just never got used to being surrounded by them after so many years spent as a shut in. Whether it was social anxiety, or annoyance that plagued me, I didn’t know.
The automatic doors parted ways as we entered the mall, a blend of music and conversations echoing throughout the space. I took a deep breath as the delicious smell of freshly baked pastries and brewed coffee wafted over from Starbucks. It almost sparked an appetite in me. Almost.
As we passed the security guard station, two women stood, looking at flyers of missing people posted on the board. The posters filled a corkboard and spilled out along the wall around it. There were so many. Too many.
I couldn’t help but overhear their conversation.
“–heard that Sarah’s daughter went missing last night.”
“I can’t believe it. How many have gone missing now? I can’t keep track of it.”
“Last I heard, it was getting closer to thirty now.”
