41. Sydney
forty-one
sydney
The landlord comes by with the maintenance man and changes my locks on Monday. He also brings me a stick to fit in the window with the fire escape, which is meant to stop it from being opened.
Kind of him.
He doesn’t mention that I’m still in my pajamas, thick sweatpants, fuzzy socks and an oversized hoodie. Not Penn’s, but one that Carter must’ve left at some point. It smells like him, and I can’t help but occasionally draw up the collar over my nose and inhale deeply.
After the landlord and maintenance guy leaves, I crawl into bed. I’m not interested in television, but I put a podcast on my phone and let it play from my nightstand.
Sleep seems easier than existing, so that’s what I do.
The only time I leave my bedroom is to go to the bathroom or refill my water bottle.
My appetite is nonexistent. Monday slips into Tuesday, which in turn seems to melt into Wednesday.
I don’t feel bad.
I’m not worried about the missing days.
I just… don’t really care.