It had been a very long day. I sat by the window until noon, the big clock in the basement reminding me of my mobility. I went to my desk and checked my email. Nothing. I checked Facebook. Nothing. I'd misplaced my phone about a week ago, but I was sure no one had tried to reach me. They'd stopped trying awhile ago. There was no one left. My journal lay open by my arm, uncapped pen holding the page down. I didn't need to read it; I knew what it said. But I didn't remember writing it. I moved to the kitchen, my bare feet kicking up dust and crumbs. Pill bottles littered the counter, and through them my hand found a glass of water. I swallowed the medicine without much thought, welcoming the bitter taste.
