Mimeomia

09 | minimax

CHAPTER NINE

MINIMAX

( — a strategy of game theory employed to minimize a player's maximum possible loss. )

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:⠀ *⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆

          MICHAELA KNOWS SHE'S NOT AT HOME BECAUSE SHE'S TOO HOT. It took her plenty of time to get her apartment to the right temperature for her to fall asleep and she can easily detect any differences between her bedroom and any other place, so, when the sweat running down the side of her neck wakes her up, she sits up with a jerk, heart pounding like a drum.

          That's what wakes Lincoln up. She almost forgot she had stayed in his apartment, as the rain nearly turned into a hurricane during the night and both of them had agreed it probably wasn't safe for her—or anyone, really—to drive under such conditions, and they had also argued for around ten minutes regarding which of them should take the bed.

          They couldn't agree. Naturally, Lincoln said she should take it as she was the guest and needed to sleep a lot more than he did, while she refused, pointing out she, as a guest, shouldn't be stealing his comfort and would be more than happy to take the couch. Having fallen asleep there countless times before, she knew how cozy it could be once she found a decent position—that was one of the reasons why she had chosen those couches in the first place.

          Thus, they decided to share the bed under the very strict condition of staying on their respective side of the bed the whole night. They've never been ones to spend the night tossing and turning on the bed until they're occupying part of each other's side, but it's different now—they were together and in love at the time, but now, as far as Michaela knows, those feelings might be one-sided because she has never known how to let things go.

          Some might call it tenacity. Others might call it a crippling fear of abandonment which leads to her clinging to past relationships because it's safer that way. Either way, whatever the case might be, Michaela is pretty sure of where she stands and how she feels, much like she knows it's not because she's terrified of dying alone. There are times when you can sort of feel a break-up coming, but theirs was so sudden, so brutal, even after all they had been through, that she didn't have time to brace herself for the impact and pick herself back up.

          She never knew how to move on. The feelings remained, though Lincoln was gone, and she had no one to turn to for support because he had always been that person. He was her person and her best friend, and all of that had simply vanished when he took that year off.

          Back to the bed. He sits up almost as quickly as she does, though Michaela doubts he's as lightheaded as she is, and, for a split second, the guilt settles in. He rubs his eyes, still half-asleep, and blinks, trying to figure out what has sent her into a spiral of stress at such an early time—or, at least, she thinks it's still early. The blinds are closed and the room is badly lit, but, even if they weren't, it'd still be dark outside thanks to the storm.

          "Mich," he calls, in a groggy voice, and she reaches out for her phone, praying to all the saints she can possibly think of it's still early and her alarm hasn't rung yet. "Michaela—"

          "You have got to be kidding me!" she cries out, with the flashing white numbers being almost blinding against the black screen. The time reads 9:04, meaning she has woken up three hours after she should have, and it's what makes her roll out of bed, stumbling over her feet. "Lincoln, I'm late to work and those people already have it out for me; if I get there wearing yesterday's clothes, almost two hours late—"