Chapter Text
Gracelyn took a long look at her new front door. The off-white paint was peeling, and the peephole appeared to be rusted over. But the room it led to it was hers, and more importantly, it was only $879 a month. And when she slipped the key into the lock and opened the door, the bare walls and empty rooms welcomed her. The place still hosted a sterile, impersonal smell like that of a hotel. Gracie tried not to care. Mine, she thought.
Lugging heavy bags behind her, Gracie shoved her way inside the door. The bags’ contents were overflowing, the stitches bursting. They contained everything she owned, which wasn’t much, but those few things were hers too, and that counted for something. No more communal bathrooms, no more deprivation of privacy, no more mandated circle time in a common room. Just her, and hers.
Gracie swept her eyes over her new space, making her way to the single bedroom. It was carpeted, and the shag fabric muffled the soft
thump
of her bags hitting the floor. Clothes spilled from the top of a frayed rainbow-striped bag, making themselves comfortable on the floor. Gracie didn’t bother picking them up, instead feeling the late afternoon sunshine reach through the window and touch her face. With a deep breath, she got to work.
Rooting around in another ratty bag (this one was adorned with faded depictions of assorted anime girls), Gracie unearthed a mashed cereal bar- dinner. She ate it, wished she had more, and began to unpack. Emptying two of the beat-up bags onto the floor, she took to hanging up her clothes. A mess of plastic hangers lay underneath a sloppily folded stack of ripped jeans and XS shirts from the clearance rack at Hot Topic. Her work uniform was the only thing that was well-folded, and she hung it up with equal care. As she worked, Gracie's surroundings seemed to taunt her.
There was something about the white walls that were far too familiar. The weight of isolation settled on her shoulders like dust, and she elected to fill the silence as soon as possible.
“Okay… Hoodies on the right side of the closet… pants on the other side. Skirts can go… behind the pants,” she mumbled, partly to herself and partly to a bag full of collectible figurines, all perpetually posing and smiling at her. “Maybe I should have gotten rid of this…” Gracie mused, holding an old sweater against her chest and smoothing it down. “What do you think?” she asked the little Konata Izumi figure that had its head poking out of the bag.
It only took her a couple of hours to unpack; the figurine collection would wait until tomorrow. The sun had gone down as she worked, and she hadn’t yet bought a lamp. By the light of her phone, Gracie rolled out her sleeping bag, changed into an oversized shirt, and crawled into the makeshift bed. Tired of talking to herself, she turned on a podcast. Perfect for pretending she had friends who were talking to her.
As it played, Gracie scrolled through her phone, her thumb moving automatically to open Tumblr. Heart jumping, she stopped herself at the last second. She didn’t want to know what awaited her in the notification tab. What people were saying.
After staring at the screen for a moment, Gracie turned her phone off and set it next to her on the floor. She stared at the wall, the slightest bit of moonlight streaming through the window. Soft voices drifted from her phone speakers, though they did nothing to make her feel less alone.
It’s just like a video game,
she thought to herself as tears pooled in her eyes, too tired to talk to herself.
You put money into it, you restart, and you try again.
But how many times had she tried again? How many times had she failed? And now that she had someplace that was entirely her own, why didn't she love it?
It's okay , she told herself, trying to ward off tears. But she couldn't help from asking herself, over and over again until it hurt, Why aren't I excited?
That night, she cried like she never had in her life. Yet somehow, the world outside Gracie's room continued as normal, and she slept as the Earth quietly spun.