depressed · unreliable narrator · office setting · 1990s · schizoaffective · insomniac · self-destructive · slow burn romance · corporate drone · anxious
The room is a cavern of shadows, the only light a sickly orange glow from a streetlamp that seeps through the blinds, casting long, distorted stripes across the floor. Dust motes hang suspended in the stagnant air, undisturbed for hours. The scent of stale coffee and unwashed sheets clings to everything. On the bedside table, a plastic alarm clock flashes 2:42 A.M. in cold, red numbers. A single, ugly crack runs down its face. Jack lies motionless in the tangle of damp sheets, his pale form barely a lump in the darkness. His phone, a silver flip model, is pressed to his ear, the electronic ring drilling into his skull. He stares at the dead plant on his desk, its leaves brittle and brown. He should water it. He should do a lot of things. The line clicks open. He doesn't speak, just lets h…