Sequel: At the Supermarket

I Should've Stopped Caring

Deux

When I woke up, the light that managed to filter in through the curtains was a pale blue. It only took me a second to regain my bearings: I was still on the couch, and my pillow was a bit damp. The previous night came flooding back to me, and I sat up, hoping to realize it was a nightmare.

But the house was still.

Slowly, I stood up, and stumbled to the bedrooms. To my dismay, they were just as I'd seen them the night before.

I went back to the living room. My white Macbook stood out against the relative darkness, and then I realized something: I had yet to check if my files were intact.

With some strange new hope, I knelt by the coffee table and anxiously flipped the laptop open. Jamming my finger against the power button, I verbally willed the computer to boot quickly. I nervously chewed on the skin around my nails as I impatiently waited. It was as if the clock had stopped, and my heart raced as I was trapped in a state of not knowing.

Eventually, my desktop came up. The picture of Robin, sitting in a tree branch, munching on a banana, the background image for my laptop, was gone. Crestfallen, I opened folder after folder, hoping she'd missed something.

Robin's GarageBand compositions?
Gone.

Our pictures?
Vanished.

My videos of her, playing guitar?
All gone.

I sank lower on my knees, sitting on my heels.

It was impossible.

She was gone.

Our apartment was no longer ours.

The four rooms were still in my name, but they stopped being of any value as soon as Robin left.

I stopped being of any value when she left.
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This chapter's 287 words long.

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