The Choices We Make

Counting

The first thing Dahlia did when she came home, was checking her phone.

The second thing Dahlia did when she came home, was checking her phone.

The third thing Dahlia did when she came home, was putting her phone down and take her coat off.

The fourth thing Dahlia did when she came home, was checking her phone. At this point, she found herself rather pathetic and decided to just slide her phone into her jean pocket and forget about it.

The fifth thing Dahlia did when she came home, was to microwave herself some popcorn.

The sixth thing Dahlia did when she came home, was to turn on the tv and look for a pleasant movie. Some Like it Hot was a perfect choice. She settled in on her couch with the bag of popcorn on her tummy and a glass of cola on the table beside her.

The seventh thing Dahlia did when she came home, was to laugh so hard the bag of popcorn fell off her tummy and onto the floor. With a flailing motion she did not succeed in catching the snack as attempted, but instead managed to knock the glass off the table and onto herself.

The eight thing Dahlia did when she came home, was to take a long, hot and long overdue shower using a shampoo that did in no way smell like synthetic apples, and do a little laundry.

The ninth thing Dahlia did when she came home, was not checking her phone. This fact was only due to her sudden realization that she had not emptied her pockets before tossing her clothes into the washer.

The tenth thing Dahlia did when she came home, was crying.

The loss of her phone, this simple little thing had been the proverbial straw that broke the camel's back. The little gadget had been her lifeline within the complete chaos that was her life. She had thought things were looking up a little. She had had a new contact, a warm and cuddly one. She had a date, a date! Except; She didn't know his last name. Except she had been to distracted to really memorize where he lived. Except their only means of communication was the broken piece of technology that she would not afford to replace until next month. And she could not call her mother to help her find the bright things in life. Or Julius, or even Sarah!

She cried until there were no more tears, until her eye felt sore. She cried until her voice became hoarse and until the room started spinning. The knot in her stomach and the ball of sadness at the back of her throat grew until they merged, until they filled her completely. Her arms felt too heavy to lift and her legs felt...detached somehow when she heard the knock on the door. They will go away, if I just lie here and don't move at all she thought to herself. She was feeling too empty, too heavy, too slow and tired to face anyone.

But they did not. The knocking got louder and faster, from an even, low, slow beat to an uneven rhythm of desperation. And had there been a voice at the beginning? She had been too tired and lost in herself to hear the words, something distant, something that should be familiar? She tried listening for it again.

- DAHLIA! OPEN THIS DAMN DOOR!

It was Julius. Of course it was Julius! She remembered vaguely promising to call him, and she never did, did she? Going through her mental list of things she had done since returning home, she found no Julius.

- Go away, asshole. I'm busy.

She tried for the light bantering tone they had, but it came out broken, hollow and flat!

- The hell I will! Open this door before I break it open!

His voice was giving her new strength now, and wasn't she pathetic, really? Wasn't this just silly?