Just three little snippets, 1/3 the size of my normal pieces

I Hear Myself

In my head I hear myself saying her name, three times, lights off, but I can’t bring myself to open my eyes and look toward the mirror. Outside the bathroom door the laughing has gone silent, quieter than silent. Void. I try to listen in and hear even the breath of a single friend, but I am deafened by the nothingness. 

And then

Glass shatters directly in front of me. Little pieces land in my hair and I am too scared to move. I’ve been barefoot since I’ve entered Ellie’s house, muddy shoes kicked off at the door. If I take a step will I cut my foot open? With my health I can’t risk even a minor cut to my feet, so I wait. Surely someone has gone to get Ellie’s mom or dad. Mr. and Mrs. Bradford are watching something in their bedroom while we play games down here. 

But I still don’t hear past the door. I listen to what is here…

And I know I am not alone. I hear breathing, slow and steady, but pained, rasping. The sound of air entering and exiting a punctured tire. Three feet in front of me. I hear a drip hit the porcelain of the sink…but I know the faucet wasn’t running. The drip is followed by another, maybe closer but I can’t look. I won’t look.

Then the sound of scraping, something sharp running along the porcelain, edging closer to me, followed by the sound of wet flesh slapping, slipping, catching itself. 

The drip hits the floor, and then another, and then a third, until I feel it pooling at my toes. Warm. Sticky. The room smells of copper and lightning. Mom says it’s ozone.

The drip lands on my forehead and my mouth finally opens again. “Let me be…let me be…let me be…” But it moves closer, hovering over me. It’s body a strange silence where the thud of my heartbeat doesn’t echo off the walls. Warm breath tickling my face until I can feel her almost upon me. 

I open my eyes.

She’s beautiful.

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The remaining kids open the bathroom door. “Where’s Rose?”

Update

My tablet is plugged into my chest. I feel its vibrations through the cord that stretches lackadaisically between my heart and the software update. 

The screen reads “Update Downloaded” and asks for me to confirm the install. I know I have to update. The SmartHeart beating beneath my ribs reads data from towers throughout the city, adjusting the speed it pumps depending on the temperature, or activating additional filtration systems when the smog gets a little too thick. If I go too long without finishing the install it’s firmware will be unable to finish the handshake that keeps my blood circulating.

But I hesitate. My neighbor updated her pancreas the other day and it stopped working for at least 3 days as the coders worked over time adjusting the generated code. Over a hundred huddled bodies in a poorly ventilated room pouring through data for 1 weeks paycheck before they were let go and the prompters were given back the reigns to generate the next series of updates.

She was fine. It sucked, but she was fine. She didn’t have any insulin stored up. Why would you when you were effectively cured…until the update bricked your organs. So she was fine. Three days without insulin isn’t a death sentence. Before insulin the treatment for diabetes was 2 years of slowly starving yourself. Eating just enough to keep going but not enough to flood your veins with sugar. That’s what she told me.

But you can’t go three days without a heart. I keep telling myself that means they’ll put in the extra time, make sure it works right. But I can’t help but worry. What if this is the time I’m finally on the opposite side of the spreadsheet? What if this is the time it breaks my heart? 

I pull out a burner phone my brother gave me a few weeks back. It can hit up an alternative guerilla network… Maybe they’ll have a jailbreak. Maybe more people are tired of having their organs on lease. Maybe a change is coming. It is coming your way.

I Didn’t Know

I didn’t know I was going to be heading to a party that night. I was expecting a cozy night in with the new Friday the 13th. I heard this 4th reboot was choice. But then Frankie texted me, told me to get to her apartment and bring beer, lots of it.

I didn’t know Frankie was hosting a party. When I entered her apartment I was hit by a wave of noise. She was so fortunate to be a trust fund kid, having a place in a building with walls thick enough that neighbors wouldn’t be annoying. I handed her the beer and entered to mingle.

I didn’t know Frankie knew Teddy Lakowski. He played football with me back in college, although we never made the actual team. We throw the pigskin while volunteering at an old folks home and helped a few of the boys relive their golden years while getting their hearts pumping. Nothing too strenuous. That was for after Teddy and I left and we tried to prove we were the more macho one by showing how hard we could throw between jabs at each other’s sex lives and checking in about family.

I didn’t know that Frankie had a football in her house, signed from some guy who did arena football who she met through her dad’s connections. She never pretended to be into sports, but her dad, Franklin, wanted a son, and he was determined to have one, even if he had to drag her kicking and screaming. 

I didn’t know that Teddy just got out of a cast and was itching to toss the ball back and forth after having gone months without moving the damn thing. He said it was one of the simplest of joys in this world, to move the lever of your arm, release the ball. To cradle the leather as it hits you. To feel the burn in your muscle as you repeat the ritual again and again.

I didn’t know that a sizable chunk of the party was hanging out on the deck, but I saw them past Teddy’s shoulder as we tossed the pigskin back and forth over the heads of ducking party goers. Occasionally hearing protests and jabs, but nothing rising above a 3/10 frustration.

I didn’t know that Frankie was sitting on the banister as I threw the ball.

I didn’t know that some dude wanted to start a fight with Freddie and would push him before he could catch.

I didn’t know the sliding door was open.

I didn’t know…

I didn’t know that Frankie would start to fall before any of us could process what was happening.

I didn’t know that Frankie would never hit the ground.

I didn’t know that we would never find what happened to her body.

I didn’t know.

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