Hours After

As I sat in the overcrowded bar that Saturday night, I realized that if I left no one would even notice I was gone. Gathering my coat, I walked inconspicuously out the front door, no one stopped me, no one even glanced my way. Wishful thinking had me hoping someone, anyone would yell my name and stop me, but per usual my presence was forgotten before it was even acknowledged.

I wandered all around the city. Up and down the cobblestone streets, through the park, down by the river. Watching as friends laughed on their way to the next bar and as lovers held hands and forgot the world around them. Checking the time on my phone I noticed that an hour had passed since I left the bar, and there wasn’t a single missed call or message from any of my so-called friends.

It was pathetic really, but I kept checking my phone for messages. However every time I took my phone out of my pocket the screen held nothing but the dimly lit background. No text from the friends I’d grown up with, no call from my roommates from college, not even a message from work.

Off in the distance church bells went off, signaling that midnight had arrived, and despite the late, frigid night I just kept wandering the city. Shoving my hands in my pockets, trying to bring my coat tighter around me I continued to walk under the flickering street lights while staring up at the moon.

Lost in my own thoughts, I didn’t notice the group of people stepping out of the hotel lobby. It was a group of eight, some lovers, but all friends, laughing. As they waited for the taxi, one of the guys took his coat off and wrapped it around one of the girls, slinging his arm around her shoulder. Still laughing, the group hopped into taxis, and off they went, leaving me with nothing more than the memory of a tender moment.

A strong breeze pulled me from my thoughts and I once again became all too aware of the cold air that surrounded me. My feet turned towards my apartment as I began the trek home. Pulling out my phone to look at the time, I was met with nothing but a black screen that refused to light up. Shoving my now dead phone in my pocket, I picked up the pace as my hands and feet began to succumb to the below-freezing temperatures.

I pleaded my hands to work as I fumbled with my key and unlocked my apartment door. Dropping my keys, wallet, and phone on the table, I kicked off my shoes and walked to the bathroom, turning the shower on. Waiting for the water to get to an unhealthy hot temperature I removed my coat and walked to my bedroom gathering flannel pants, an oversized sweatshirt, and thick socks. Still urging my fingers to cooperate I removed the rest of my clothing and headed to the bathroom.

Stepping under the scalding hot water I felt my body shudder at the drastic change in temperature. I relished in the cascading warmth that fell from above, feeling content for the first time all night. I washed away the coldness that had covered my body, the makeup put on to impress other people, and the wishful thinking that had entered my head. Feeling the hot water dissipate, I quickly jumped out of the shower, dried off, and put on clothing that had warmed up from the steam of the shower.

On my way to turn the main light off, the small rectangular box caught my eye. Grabbing it on the way to bed, I sat down and stared at it as I contemplated plugging it in to charge. Feeling the cold seeping back into my bones, I quickly left my phone to charge on the nightstand and burrowed under the glorious warmth of my covers. Too tired to keep thinking, I succumbed to the darkness of sleep.

Just as the sun started creeping through my windows, I was taken aback by the overwhelming hotness suffocating me. I quickly threw the covers off and removed my flannel pants, oversized sweatshirt, and thick socks. As I forcefully rid myself of my warm clothes I knocked my phone off the nightstand. I instinctively reached for it, placing it back on the nightstand, forcing it to light up showing nothing but the time, 5:12, seven hours since I silently left the bar alone. I flipped my pillow to the cool side and closed my eyes once more.

When I remerged from sleepless I swung my legs over my bed, threw on my discarded clothing, and headed to the bathroom. As I looked in the mirror I noticed my hair plastered to my forehead. Splashing cold water on my face, I walked the twelve steps to the kitchen. Turning the faucet on, I filled the tea kettle and left it to boil while I made my bed. Just as I finished, I heard a small buzzing emanating from the nightstand. Grabbing my phone I saw a promotional email and threw it on the couch as I went back to the screeching tea kettle.

I settled on the couch with a warm cup of tea and turned on the television. The next few hours passed as I enjoyed a lazy Sunday morning, not once looking at the black box in the corner of the couch. Suddenly, I was interrupted from relaxation by a buzzing. As I took a look at my phone I saw only a news alert and the time, 12:27. Heading back to my bedroom I changed into workout clothes, plugged my headphones in, slung my backpack over my shoulder, and walked out the door.

As I walked the two miles to the yoga studio, I passed packed restaurants filled with smiling and laughing groups of people enjoying their Sunday brunches. I passed young families taking the dog for a walk, runners training for the marathon, and shoppers heading home, their arms filled with groceries. I took my hand out of its warm pocket and grasped the cold, silver metal handle, pulling the door open, and walked into the yoga studio. Placing my mat down I settled in and prepared to sweat profusely in the 99-degree room for the next hour. With a new appreciation for water, I left the studio and headed to the grocery store. Grabbing just enough to last me the next week, I paid and began the two miles walk back to my apartment.

Entering the apartment I quickly put the refrigerated items away and ran to the shower, stripping the sweat-soaked clothing off my body. I allowed the water to pelt down on me until my finger began to pruin. Quickly drying off, I threw on a pair of sweatpants, an old sweatshirt, and finished putting the groceries away. Pulling my phone out of my backpack I once again was met with just the time, 4:00. I made myself another cup of tea, grabbed a snack, and once again settled on the couch. This time I took a look at my phone while the television played on. Scrolling through social media I saw photos of couples, families, and friends all enjoying their weekends. Photo after photos, caption after caption, I scrolled until I came across a photo by a friend of mine who I was at the bar with the previous night, time-stamped four hours earlier, fourteen hours after I silently left the bar alone.