Tadashi’s Apartment
Atlanta, GA
United States of America
December 2009
It happened again.
Tadashi couldn’t find the will to move from his current position. Lying curled up on the bed, he couldn’t help but wonder about the work he was already missing. A quick glance at his phone a few minutes before told him that he should have been at HQ ten minutes back. Despite this knowledge and despite knowing that his phone would buzz much later with messages and missed call from his co-workers, he couldn’t find the strength to move, the capability to do anything except lie in bed, drift in and out of sleep.
It was fine. It had been two days already. It was fine.
The bedroom was dark. The lights hadn’t been switched on for more than a day at that point; there was the running of the heater, but that was all. Silence was his only company, and he found that as sad as it seemed, it was exactly what he wanted. Silence was alright. Silence was enough. Silence was fine.
Dressed in some thick shirt and dark sweatpants, he could only roll over from time to time, sometimes glance up at the ceiling. Sometimes reach out, reach towards the ceiling as if there was something calling his name from above; all while this happened, he wouldn’t say anything, wouldn’t do anything else. Tadashi kept in bed, the sheets only half-covering his figure, with an arm outstretched as if wanting to chase for something that was no longer there.
He found himself doing that again. One hand reaching upwards, eyes trained on the ceiling. There was nothing there. There wasn’t anything to reach for. There was no one looking down at him. There was no one else in the room. There was no one else to wait for.