i see you and run | shadow trials

Part 1 | June 2023

My mind is on the verge of collapsing underneath the weight of quantum uncertainty. 

I'm ready for the Heisenberg principle to jump out of the page and strangle me to death. Asphyxiation may be a painful way to go, but if it were to free me from the cold clenches of physics homework, I would welcome death with open arms.

Olivia says that I'm too dramatic, but I think I'm being perfectly reasonable, thank you very much. Physics is a cruel villain possessing an intense determination to unravel the very fabric of my sanity.

As I underline my answer, only one final problem remains. I bite my lower lip in concentration, and copy down the question in loopy, but not quite elegant, cursive. A soft breeze blows in from my bedroom's opened window, and I debate just ignoring the rest of my homework to go outside.

The temptation is strong.

But I will not cave to it, as Pandora did when she unlatched the box forbidden to open. I will not become a cautionary tale of What Happens When You Ignore Responsibilities. That would be Olivia, who forgot to feed the cat two days in a row.

And who is also entering our shared apartment, interrupting my thoughts. The front door creaks open loudly, startling me.

And of course just when I'm on the verge of figuring out how to use the Boltzmann factor without my calculator throwing a fit because the numbers are too small for.

"Hey Olivia!" I call out from the desk positioned against the wall in my bedroom. "The cat's angry and a wee bit sad that you didn't feed him!"

Her footsteps echo from the foyer. She's probably dumping her bag directly in front of the door again. Her messy habits are frustrating, but somehow she's still my best friend.

When no response comes, I sigh and stand up from my chair, making my way to the front. "The cat won't accept your pleas for forgiveness this time, Miss Davis!" The cat barely accepted them the first time. His favorite part of the day is mealtime.

By the time I make my way to the kitchen, Olivia's still not responding to my well-mannered criticisms of her pet-care skills. A tad strange, but not unusual. When she's tired, she's the quietest person on planet Earth.

Nevertheless, I continue. "He told me meow meow meow meow meow, and since I'm somewhat of a feline whisperer myself, I know it translates to I want food! in English. You should hire me as a cat translator."

Still, no response. I slide into the foyer, dragging my sandals against the ground, making them go squeak against the hardwood. To my surprise, there is no one here. That, nor any signs that Olivia's even come in. Only my blue spring jacket is hung from the hook adjacent to the door, and my navy sneakers are on the shoe rack all alone.

I furrow my eyebrows. I could've sworn I heard her come in, yet no signs of Olivia's mess mars my organization. The door remains locked.

"Olivia? Olivia, are you here?" Nothing. Still.

Aside from the echoes of my own footsteps and the soft buzzing of the lights, silence fills the apartment. A hush envelopes the air, and everything else is so still that it could almost be ethereal. I shiver, a chill coursing through my body at how sudden the warm inviting atmosphere of my college home has turned into an eerie scene. It feels empty, like an abandoned dollhouse.

But the sensation that someone else is here tugs at the back of my mind.

On tiptoes now, I creep around the corner and into the living room. The overhead lights aren't on, but the sunlight trickling in through the window illuminates the worn plum purple couch. The television hands on the wall. The painting Olivia started rests in the corner, dejected.