METANOIA

PETE

Showered, brushed and deodorized, Silas walked into the living room feeling fresh. Misha was sprawled on his back all over the larger couch like a hyperactive six-year-old. He was upside down with his feet pointing to the ceiling. His head was bent uncomfortably, defying gravity as he hacked away at the laptop on his chest. He was buying his tickets and checking in electronically. After he had done so, he proceeded to announce his arrival through various different social media. Silas had his toothbrush in his mouth sans toothpaste. The need to digest and the lack of any immediate goals had provided them with time to collect themselves. Silas was wandering around the house aimlessly to get a sense of his ex roommate's current life, despite the reassuring signs the core of his personality was unaltered by his work.

Some see skepticism as a disease, but it has its virtues. It was also common ground for these two friends. Misha was a cynic who hid behind a façade of smiles. Shortly after they met, Silas had seen through his amiable front and reached out to the love of truth that lurked beneath it all, and in that way, connected with Misha's truer self. Skepticism, or at least the lack of tolerance to bullshit also made their friendship purer, for they didn't waste time in pleasantries.

On the other hand, when they first met, Misha thought Silas looked nerdy, to say the least. It wasn't hard to assume that the moment he opened his mouth he was going to come out with some drawn out speech. However, beneath his scholarly appearance, Misha saw there was a hidden party animal that fed off the relentless excitement within him, and Misha knew how to tap into that aspect of his personality. The two of them were better people around each other, and they had both missed that.

Silas was skimming through Misha's library, his fingertip tracing titles. It wasn't full of business and economy books, which is what he imagined all other Wall Street guys read, which was a relief. There were occasionally some brain twisters, logic puzzles, and strategy books, but mostly, he saw novels and history books, both fiction and nonfiction. Misha also had an affinity for the classics and a number of tomes of literary discourse was scattered among the books like Ulysses or Dante's Divine Comedy, which crushed his Palahniuk collection from both sides.

His wardrobe was not just full of suits; Misha had retained his colorful spirit from back in college and had two distinct wardrobes split down the center, one for work and one for living, with a rift of accessories between them. There were also a few items of clothing various women in Misha's life had left there or forgotten. Silas smiled at the brassiere hung amongst his ties; the straps seemed small enough to wrap around his bicep, but it had a decent cup size. The fridge wasn't full of alcohol, which wouldn't have surprised him; instead, the booze had been replaced with ingredients for home cooked meals and mostly healthy organic contents. The house showed signs of domestication, and it was almost cozy, unlike Silas' current living arrangements back home.

Silas realized, with distaste, he had become considerably duller over time. His house that might as well have been a clinic, was a loft run by a computer, everything easily accessible from a universal remote. His fridge was empty usually, and he barely had any furniture as he made it a point to buy something only if he really, really liked it. He lived in a glass house, isolated in the suburbia, climate-controlled and alone. And now it was covered in shit...literally. We'll get to that in a bit.

Thoughts about his life back home were conducting a tribal death dance. He had his hand in his pocket and was running his thumb thoughtlessly over his phone when it suddenly jolted him. He pulled it out and looked at it in disbelief. "Fuck," he sighed. "How did water get in there?" he murmured to himself. This was the first time he actually noticed the water had seeped inside. It wasn't visible at a glance. There wasn't too much liquid, and his screen worked fine except for an eerie white glow of humidity.