Franklin

5 | of paradoxes and small talk

               "For the last time, Andy," I sigh. "I was not hallucinating. It felt too real for that."

               Andy, being Andy, is not having it. "But what if you were?"

               But what if I wasn't?

               Monomania is said to be a condition in which an individual is extremely preoccupied with a single idea or subject, in a way that is not normal. I have a fixation with paradoxes that verge on monomania.

                The fact that they are not obvious nonsense, and it's only post a thorough consideration that you realize their self defeating logic, is what fascinates me. My personal favorite is Schrödinger's Paradox.

               It goes a little something like this: Schrödinger puts a cat in a box, along with some kind of poison. The poison's release is set to be triggered by the radioactive decay of a subatomic particle. But if you paid attention in your AP Science classes you would know that these tiny particles are capable of being in multiple states at once-meaning that a particle could be decaying or not decaying at the same time. It follows that the poison could simultaneously be released and not released, and by extension, the cat could be dead and not dead.

               And I may be hallucinating or I may not, and James did call me. But unless I find the loophole, I remain stuck in this paradoxical situation, and I can't reason with Andy. It is what she chooses to believe against my word.

               "How do I make you understand?"

               "Look," Andy runs a hand through her hair. "You just said you delete your call history every night before going to bed, didn't you?"

               I do. It's an OCD thing.

               "I know what I said but I need you to-"

               "No." She cuts me off. "What you need is a good night's sleep. You had a long day; you have a long day ahead of you. You are getting impatient and irate by the lack of leads, and that's messing with your head."

               "You know what, forget it." I march out of her room, slamming the door behind me. God, she is impossible. I don't know how I let myself forget that even for a second.

               Outside in the darkness of the corridor, I check the time. It's two in the morning. I need a diversion. A diversion to keep my mind off James Kurt. I settle on going out for a walk to clear my head when I hear a soft humming sound come from one of the rooms at the end of the corridor.

               Ignoring flashbacks from every Horror movie I binge watched last month, I head in the direction of the room, following the light seeping from under its door.

               Not even ten seconds later, the door flies open, and Keith steps out, his piercing blue eyes questioning me silently from under furrowed eyebrows.

               "What are you doing here?" He asks, his left hand gripping the door as though he wanted to prevent it opening any further. I hadn't paid attention to it before, but his voice sounds a lot like cool autumn wind on the summer solstice; it's just the right blend of breathy and deep.

               I clear my throat and step closer. "Hi."

               Keith folds his arms, and makes a face again, this time one with a less legible expression. "Hi?"

               "I couldn't sleep." I scratch the back of my head. "So you uh, you live here?

               He nods. "Perks of having a brother who owns the place, I guess."

               Okay, I was not expecting that. Can this night get any stranger?

               His phone pings.

               "Don't you have school in the morning?" I don't know why I do it, but I ask him.

               He smiles. "I leave for college next month."

               Oh. "Where to?"

               "Penn State. Scholarship."

               Of course it's an Ivy League. 

               "Hey, do you wanna come inside or something?" Keith offers, probably in an attempt to kill the awkwardness radiating off of me.

               Inside is a room with walls covered in graffiti.

               "No, thanks." I hesitate, but only out of politeness. "I am just gonna head back to my room now. Try to get some sleep, you know? Sorry, I disturbed you."

               "Yeah." The corners of Keith's mouth wrinkle, like he is trying not to laugh. "Yeah, you should use all the sleep you can get."

               On my way back, I wonder if tonight is at least a good night to die.