Gone. Friday night, everybody leaves. I think my roommate goes home for the weekend, but who knows? He wasn’t there when I awoke earlier. Everyone else goes bar hopping.
Kathy watches the screensaver on the computer monitor. It’s the one where little white pixels that are supposed to be stars fly by, pass you, to provide the illusion of traveling through space.
Very Star Trek. Very retro.
Jack is on his cell phone, surfing the internet or something. Here, but not.
The joint clip smolders in the ash tray just before him.
Zoë smiles and slowly twirls her costume-jewelry necklace. It looks cheap. It’s probably expensive.
It’s about everything and nothing. And some things. Can you grasp the point I'm trying to correct? Last time didn't go to well. I wouldn't want you to get the wrong idea. About me and the person I am and any of this.
Ignored, I leave. Sit alone, at my desk, back in the dorm room with the lights out. My roommate gone, off somewhere. ever here. Dead, probably. Did I kill him?
Wonder scenarios. Shrug at the paranoia that builds.
“This is the absolute worse conspiracy theory ever, man,” I tell him. Falter. Loomis clears his throat. “Your perception of the present, your recollection of the past. your imaginations of the future, the parallel.” “You're losing me,” I tell him.
You think this is about you. It isn't. You are a fool. A side character. A supporting role with a limited view and understanding of the bigger picture. You can’t see others. My agenda? I don't like the implication.
Get a phone call in the middle of the night. It's from a blocked number. Don't want to answer it. But the ringing wakes me and I answer without even realizing. I wait. Try to sound awake. "Hello." I say.