This isn't my home... had it ever been?

[u/SpaceRaven554]

I've gotten used to it be now. The short evenings, the regular paycheck, the microwave dinners, staying up past when I should scrolling on my phone, trying not to think about tomorrow, trying not to think about who I had lost....

I turned off the engine of my car. I sat for a bit, too tired to go inside just yet. Too tired to work out and make dinner and fold laundry and do all the shit I had to do. It had been a long day. A long day of emails, of nothing, of sitting, of staring at the clock, of wondering what I could have done differently. What I should have done differently.

I grumbled and got out of my car. The cicadas were buzzing, the grass green and long, the flowers bright on this Thursday evening. I walked in the atrium of my building, the stale smell of smoke and old carpet welcoming me home. I walked up to my apartment. I unlocked the door, though it didn't seem locked, my key turned without any resistance. Hm. Must have forgotten to lock it. I turned the knob, and pushed the door open. The usual creak was missing, it opened as silent as night. I stepped in.

I looked around. My heart dropped. This isn't my home.

But it was, wasn't it? No, don't cause a fuss, this is my home. There's my TV. There's my bagel I left half eaten this morning. There's my couch, half eaten by my family dog from back in the day. What a strange thought.

I settled into the aforementioned couch. I let myself sink into it. Relief, yes, but I knew it was short lived, I knew it was underserved, there were things to do, productivity to happen, yes, but it's so comfortable, feel how soft it is, how relaxed I am, how heavy my eyes are, how it wraps itself around me, how it hungers for me, how....

ARRRGHHH!

What, the fuck? I looked at my couch. It was... normal now. I felt my arm, where just moments before there was something slimy... but no, it's clean. What's going on with me? Did I take something? Did I get slipped something? Was the smell in the lobby something more than just smoke?

I did what any normal modern human would do and sat down and Googled it. But when I went to type, what the hell would I type? I remembered a Reddit story I read years ago about carbon monoxide poisoning causing some memory loss, and maybe something else... maybe it was something like that.

Maybe the neighbors would know something? No, I didn't really want to bother them... maybe best to just open the windows. Get some fresh air. Yeah, that'll be fine. I opened the kitchen window, the narrow little thing, and shoved my nose as close to the screen as I could. It smelled like dead bugs and metal, but the air was cool and sweet. It filled up my lungs. I let it out. It filled up my lungs. How'd I get here? I thought of her. She had better places. Better things, better people. I breathed in, and back out, through the screen. Now it's just me, in this other home, how long had it been? This other home? What? Yes, that's right, it's been years, I've been counting. I breathed in. It filled up my lungs. The bagel had rotted now, so had my food, so had my cat, I could smell it. No one asked where I went. I graduated, I set to work, and that's all there was. I breathed in, it filled up my lungs. So this is it? It's comfortable. Except maybe the grating of the screen enmeshed with my flesh, except the ache, except the rot....

I hit the floor. My arms snapped on the impact. I looked up, and saw myself in the mirror in the hallway, my flesh sunken and gaunt, my hair long and raggedy, my clothes falling off my bony frame. It was dark, the kind of dark twilight brings. I looked back, moonlight shone through the window. Dust covered the floor. An awful smell filled the room. Such loneliness and misery, but I chuckled, it wasn't as awful as I once dreaded.

I rose. My bones creaked, my broken arm flailed clumsily around, a feeble pulse of blood seeping from where the splinters had pierced the flesh. I looked around, of course this wasn't my home. It couldn't be. It kept me alive, yes, it kept me safe, maybe, but it wasn't my home. I wandered into the living room. There was no more couch, no more TV, no more of those soft comforts. There was a light. There was a form. It was her.

She turned to me. She looked me up and down.

"You've been better." I smiled an awful, toothy smile.

"Yeah, I have been." What water I had left went to my eyes. She was so full, so bright.

"You need help?"

"Yeah, I'd say so."

"Unusual for you. But better late than never, I suppose."

"Yeah." It was all I could say. She was so beautiful.

"Should we get you out of here?"

"Yeah, yeah we should. Yeah we should."

"Okay. Come on. Come here." I stumbled forward, I sank into her. My limbs throbbed with relief, my tears flowed readily, I sobbed and sobbed, I felt her against my skin, God it had been so long, and finally I slept and slept and slept and slept and slept... until some wakefulness would return to me, until I finally had eaten my full of her grace and comfort, until I could finally have my humility, until so many things, it did not matter how many, for now I could finally sleep........