Open.
Seconds after seeing the darkness of my room, I welcomed the harsh light of my phone. It had been my first instinct ever since. The graphics and words scrambled like pieces of a puzzle falling into place within the screen. Then, after several moments of struggling to see, I was able to view them with ease.
There were anonymous messages, yet again.
Having given a subtle sense of excitement, I rushed to swipe through my pattern code. One by one, I opened the tiny letters purposely bursting with color. After feeling satisfied with the answers I provided for each, I viewed the last message.
It was long. Painfully long.
Judging from the hasty barrage of words and phrases, I picked up a familiar wording. Aside from the sentences that made up the message, it was the strangling grief stretching out from the screen that made it hard to breathe.
Soon enough, I found myself choking up. Yet, no tears dropped.
After providing a short and admittedly deficient response, I proceeded to press my hands into my bed to search for my trusty earphones. After a few moments of trying to balance the chaos within my mind and the wires twisted in loops, I tapped on a song. Alongside the slow, opening chords of the piano, I gently laid on my side and rested my head on my pillow.
Losing myself into the richness of the female singer's voice, I closed my eyes. The heavens dropped their tears on my behalf, right on time, and I drifted into sleep.
---
Once again, I woke up.
It was an abrupt end to a perfect dream: sunlight reflected on the faded cream color of my ceiling. I then shuffled to fix the sheets made messy by the unconscious movements I made throughout the night. Slowly rising from my discontent slumber, I recounted the dreams I had during my triply interrupted sleep from the evening before.
They were sweet, happy, and lively. Just like how we were before.
Compared to the messages we shared in my sleepy fantasies, my inbox was empty. My face remained blank with no surprise. Although I had been hoping to see what I saw in my dreams, the invisible hands of my faint dizziness pulled me down and hushed me back to sleep once again.
---
Classes have been cancelled.
My weary eyes attempted to read from the searing brightness of my phone. After lagging for a while, the messages started to come, one after the other. It has been my third time waking up today, and for a while, my thoughts too, lagged behind.
Finally, after several minutes of staring into the roughness of my room's walls, I decided to move. Now disregarding my thoughts on outfit choices for our supposed P.E. class, I joined my friends in the bustle of their early morning chat.
Then came 09:02.
I found myself within the empty spaces of a place I once called home.
With doubts and hesitations weighing on my fingers, I typed down a few words. The intervals I took between characters were long and almost agonizing. My hands seemed to be unfazed by the tremendous turmoil of thoughts in my head. Then, as if the time I took typing was not yet enough, I gazed at the four puny words I have tediously written.
The name above my message was a familiar one; it was that of a missed person.
Taking nothing into consideration, I clicked the bright blue arrow below.
---
The next few hours were met with anxious anticipation. It was like that of a mother, seated on a cold metal chair in a hospital hallway. Minute by minute, she glances at the silver doors of the operating room where her daughter fights a crucial battle for her life. The sight of every medical personnel that rushes by her within the turbulence of the hospital seems to push her closer to her limits. Having no assurance of what could happen next, she begins to cry. Uttering prayers accompanied by tearful heaves, she keeps herself strong and sane.
