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January 1, 2045

Hallee

Maybe if Marlowe and I don’t move, then we won’t be hit with the uppercut of everything we’ve forgotten and an ache for a place that feels like home. If we don’t move, then we won’t have to face whatever is to come.

I break our staring contest first and meander back through the perfectly placed living room. The centerpiece, a light gray sectional, is covered in furry white throw pillows and, finally, a pop of color! Three fuzzy blankets—yellow, cream, and pink.

My heart stretches toward the yellow one, but before I get my hopes too high that the happiest color might be mine, my eyes turn to a TV mounted cleanly on the wall. For a moment, I contemplate turning it on and distracting myself from reality with whatever show pops up first. Instead, not one, not two, but three books sitting on the round coffee table steal my attention from the remote next to them. Those must be the books mentioned in the sticky notes. But if there are three books, then where is our third roommate?

One turn down an empty hallway, my feet freeze before a closed door. Nerves are unnecessary. It’s not a warzone waiting for me on the other side, but this is a little nerve-wracking—right? Another catfight could be awaiting me, and I don’t think I’d fare well. Inhaling some grit, I clench my fists and get ready to rumble.

Knock, knock, knock.

Three times because three is good luck.

“Where am I?” a terrified voice reaches out. How do I comfort someone I don’t know?

Marlowe is the “fighter,” poised to strike and drag this girl out by her hair next, I’m the “flighter” that ran directly into a vanity, which leaves—the “freezer.” We’re the perfect trifecta.

“May I open the door?” I ask gently.

“Yes,” she whimpers.

The approval was faint, but existent, so I proceed with caution, careful not to enter unless explicitly invited.

“Hi,” I sigh, slowly cracking open the door.

Best guess? This girl’s the youngest of us. Textbook beautiful, with a short blonde bob framing her delicate face. She’d be prettier without last night’s makeup streaming down it. Probably didn’t need the makeup in the first place, but most of it has been cried off anyway. The comforter she’s using to hide her trembling body is soaked in tears. Runny mascara has stained it like spots on Dalmatian puppies, and a wave of nausea passes through me. Is there a way to get those stains out?

Marlowe struts directly into the room, reaching out her hand to the timid stranger. It’s a gentler approach than she used with me, but still causes the girl to flinch, and her wide green eyes lock onto the outstretched hand. As Marlowe’s shoulders fall, she finally accepts and willingly follows us to the living room.

Book is a generous term for the stack of papers on the coffee table. Surely I’ve amounted to more than just these few pages?

“Hallee,” “Marlowe,” and our third roommate, “Avery.”

“Hi, Avery,” I gently answer her silent question. “My name is Hallee, and this is Marlowe.”

Passing around a few comforting glances, Avery is the first to reach for her story. I guess a “freezer” can still choose to move.

“Where. Am. I?” she asks again, braver than before.

“We’re wondering the same thing,” Marlowe replies. “I’m sure you heard the events unfolding out here and I’m happy to report, I would’ve won the catfight.”

The joke was a good attempt but missed its mark in the fog of fear still surrounding us. Avery couldn’t look less impressed, but entertains Marlowe in a conversation that dims to a steady hum as my fingers fan the few pages resting in my hands.

Most days, we don’t know when our whole world is about to change . . . when a dramatic event will alter the axis we live on. We’re blissfully naive to when information that could shatter us, rebuild us, and shatter us again will be dropped on our doorstep, or when a stranger will become a friend who introduces us to our new favorite thing. We simply exist in the ever-evolving world, doing our best to not fall face first in a big pile of failure. However, at this very moment, I’m keenly aware that everything and nothing is about to change, simultaneously.

Am I really ready for that?

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