The Nothing

The Upper: Chapter 1: Her

I miss the tv. I would give just about anything for a cheesy tune from a commercial, a Mcdonalds big mac commercial, the theme song to... just about anything. Even before, tv was a comfort to me. When I was alone, it was company. When I got older, it was a reminder from childhood.

I don't know how to exist here. That's what it comes down to. I have no fucking clue how to exist in this place. So far I have been able to live. And for now that's all that matters. 

I sit up and attempt to shake out thoughts that have no value here. Overthinking has no value here. Only logic, and steps to make it through each day. I'm not sure for what yet, but the old part of me tells me there's a reason. So, for now, I hang on. 

The curtains are starting to glow with the warmth of the sun coming up outside. I hear birds singing. The sound creates a rage inside me, more and more each morning that I can't explain, but I push down and try to ignore. I slip on my joggers, move the curtains away just half an inch to peak outside to the woods, and then start lacing up my sneakers for my run. Running each morning is one of the only things that hadn't changed. That and coffee. If you could call the old coffee beans and hot water coffee. I hop up off the bed and into the kitchen and throw the teapot on the stove, turn on the burner, flick a match, and watch the blue flames quickly ignite in their circular pattern under the pot until it slowly comes to a low whistle of steam. 

A creak of the floorboards stops me in my tracks for only a quarter of a second before I see the white fur. 

"Morning buddy." 

Shadow looks up at me with sleepy amber eyes. The whistle of the teapot signaling breakfast time for him. 

"You hungry?" 

I pour the boiling water over the mashed up coffee beans, and the rest divided into two bowls. Shadow's tail wagging to signal he knows what they are for. Into the bowls goes oatmeal honey that we'll eat together once it's cooled. 

A low whimper comes from him and I signal for him to be patient. He stares at me and the whimper becomes a still quiet, but higher pitched whine. I freeze. The dog looks at me, completely still, with the knowledge of having heard something out of my own range. 

"Stay!" 

His left ear perks up and he whines again. 

I crouch down and move into the entryway and peer out the side of the curtain, looking out to the woods surrounding me. The birds have stopped singing.