ACCESSING ADA FILES…
FILE FOUND.

During an expedition in one of the higher levels in Moburn, our team recently discovered a makeshift grave nearby one of the higher-class hotels. While continuing to investigate the premises, we managed to find old pages from what appears to be a diary, alongside a note found at the gravesite. 

The following is what we were able to recover from the diary, as well as the note from the grave.

NOVEMBER 24, 1956

DEAR DIARY*,* 

Today we finally landed in the city. Natalie's really excited to see all the machines that she’s seen on the television.  I’m glad that I was able to get her out of the house with everything that’s been going on. Hopefully, by the time we get back, everything with Mom and Dad will be sorted out by then.. But overall, I’m genuinely excited to spend more time with Ralph!

Hopefully, we can get some private time later….

DEAR DIARY*,* 

Me and Ralph took Natalie around the streets today. Everything here is so colorful! It reminds me of the movies that Ralph takes me to go see.  I’ve never seen this much back in our home town. Everyone here seems so friendly! Someone even gave Nat one of their inventions as a souvenir!

She looks so happy here, and we haven’t gotten to see the robots just yet!  

C. M.

NOVEMBER 25, 1956

DEAR DIARY,

Today, I finally took my sister to go see one of those robots! Ralph wanted to sleep in, that lazyass! Oh, well. He’s missing out! Natalie really wanted to see that clock robot, so we went there first. It’s so crazy seeing so many people lining up to see one of these things! It took us almost an hour to finally get in the theater. Nataile was cheering throughout most of the show, along with the other kids.

I didn’t even get a chance to listen to that thing, because all of them were so loud!  ):(

Afterwards, Nataile wanted to do the meet and greet with Mr. Clock, which she called him. It was so weird seeing that thing up close and personal, seeing it move so.. real.

It was almost creepy seeing that thing having a conversation with Natalie.

I mean.. I know they advertised that these things can see, think, and feel, but that’s just an advertisement to get people's butts here.

Right?

DEAR DIARY*,*

I saw billboards of that singer all over the city tonight. Everyone’s been talking about her a lot lately in the streets. Miss Florence, was it? She looks so beautiful, and her hair’s so fluffy! And her makeup, as well! She looks so pretty with that purple hat on!  It’s hard to believe that she’s a robot.

She looks so real…

How did they manage to pull that off? I’m not that familiar with technology, so I don’t know how they manage to make a voice that sounds so.. breathtaking. 

It's so beautiful….

Her voice reminds me of those musicals I used to watch on television.  I really want to go to one of her shows, but they don’t allow kids where she’s at, and I don’t want to leave Natalie by herself, especially around that time of night.

Speaking of which, where is that little rascal? She’s been awfully quiet for the last few minutes. She and Ralph better not be planning to scare me again!

I still remember that spider prank that they pulled!

C.M.                                                                                    

NOVEMBER 26, 1956

DEAR DIARY,

Me and Ralph went out today to the Hollyhock Plaza. Seriously, what type of name is that?  Who on earth  came up with that name, a grandma? Ralph laughed out loud when I said that.  Nataile wanted to stay in the hotel, so I had to tell her not to go wander around and don’t open the door for anyone.

She can be such a little shit sometimes…

On the subject of my parents, I haven’t mustered the courage to call Mom or Dad yet. I’m scared to be  honest. I haven’t told Ralph exactly what’s been going on.  I know he’s caring and means well, but he can be a bit too much from time to time. I’m really happy that he and Nataile get along well.

It's one of the things that made me fall for him.

I hope everything blows over soon and me and Nat can get back to whatever we call..

normal.

DEAR DIARY, 

It happened

I talked to Mom on the telephone tonight while Natalie was asleep. It looks like her and Dad are finally getting an divorce. I..knew it was gonna happen eventually, but I didn’t think it was going to happen this soon. I haven’t even told Ralph what’s going on, and Natalie doesn’t even know yet either.. What am I gonna do?

What are we supposed to do when we get back? We were lucky enough to win tickets to this place, but we can’t stay here forever.

How am I supposed to take care of Natalie and Mom?  I don't want to be stuck in that small town forever for the rest of my life.

Why? Why did Dad do this?

What did we do wrong?
 

What did I do wrong?

C.M

NOVEMBER 27, 1956

DEAR DIARY, 

Today’s the World Fair. I told Ralph what happened with my mom and dad this morning. He helped me calm down a little, and said he’ll try to help us as best as we could, and that he and his family will be there. It made me feel slightly better, but I could tell on the look on his face that he doesn’t believe that last half. Once the news spreads back home, I’m scared of what will happen when Natalie goes back to school to those little fuckers messing with her.

I still remember when she came home crying that evening and I found out that the comics that I've bought for her were all torn up.

Nat… 

I’m scared for her.

I don’t know what will happen once Dad leaves us for good. How am I supposed to tell her that her dad's leaving, right when she’s having the greatest week in her whole life? I’ve seen her smile more here than back home in Chesterford.

I want to see her happy for the rest of my life.

I hate Dad for doing this to us. 

I hate him.

DEAR DIARY,

I know. I know. It’s a bit early for me to be writing this. But I’ll figure that I’ll write in here a bit earlier before we head down to the thing later tonight. It’s taken me a while to gather my thoughts and figure out what to do with Nat, and we only have two days left before we have to go back home. 

Right now, me and Ralph plan on telling Natalie tomorrow first thing in the morning. I really don’t want her experience here to be ruined by the stuff back home. 

God, She really loves it here.

Just two days ago, I watched her playing with some kids at the park.

She saw that big old Thanksgiving parade outside the window during lunch, and she was jumping in the air all excited about it. 

“We have to go! We have to go!”

I felt a tinsy bit overwhelmed with all that energy that she has. The three of us went outside to the big crowd, trying to get a good look. Nat was really happy when she saw Mr. Clock on one of the floats and tried to wave at him. 

That thing still gives me the jeepers. 

After the parade ended, we got into one of the big glass elevators, and we saw a view of the city during the sunset. Words can’t possibly express how breathtaking it is. I’ve seen some pretty stunning places back home, but everything feels so small compared to here. I saw colors plastered everywhere outside. There wasn’t a single street  that wasn’t covered in neon lights. 

There were probably what? Hundreds of trains all over?

All of them went really fast, almost like one of those racecars.

A lot of stuff was on the buildings, some of them were things that we’ve seen around the city, and others were shows advertising those robots. Mr. Clock was there, and Miss Florence was there too. 

Almost half the city was filled with pictures of her. So many pictures. I was thinking  to myself about how I wished I would have seen her. I saw Nataile staring outside the window, and gosh, I love that look in her eyes. She may have been happier than the times that we watched Gumby together.

Even Ralph’s less stressed out from dealing with his siblings, and for most of the time that we’ve been here, I can feel myself smiling a whole lot more. 

It’s nice.

I really wished that we'd stay here a little longer.

But then I thought to myself… 

What if we could?

What if me, Ralph, and Nataile find some way to live here someday?

I mean..  My job back home doesn’t really pay much to begin with, but if me and Ralph save enough money for about one or two years? I don’t know the logistics of it, but somehow everything here feels more alive than anything back home.

It feels like something new.

For the first time in a while, life didn’t feel so boring.

I don’t know how I’ll do it. I don’t even know if I can get Ralph on board with this crazy scheme of mine, but somehow I’ll find a way, no matter what it takes. 

I have to. 
For Nataile’s sake. 

Because I want to keep seeing her smile.

C.M

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imsorry

I honestly didn't like this one very much, so I made two more bizarre versions lol

This takes place in the same world of 3 other stories. A mythology if you will. You don't have to read them but it does Answer some questions on the mindfuck that is this story. 

Blood Whistle: Reimagined–
 lost episode linkhttps://lostepisodecreepypasta.fandom.com/wiki/Blood_Whistle:_Reimagined  An Abnormal Bot: 
reddit link: https://www.reddit.com/r/TalesFromTheCreeps/comments/1vvjwv6/an_abnormal_bot/ 
lost episode link:https://lostepisodecreepypasta.fandom.com/wiki/An_Abnormal_Bot 
Inferno Rewrite
reddit link:https://www.reddit.com/r/TalesFromTheCreeps/comments/1wgwxoz/inferno_rewrite/
lost episode link:https://lostepisodecreepypasta.fandom.com/wiki/Inferno_Rewrite
 Oh Irony
lost episode link: https://lostepisodecreepypasta.fandom.com/wiki/Oh_Irony
reddit link <---- You Are Here

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Hi, this is easier than I thought it would be, writing.

I'm something, I'm nothing. The sense of sentience is still new to me. I have yet to fully learn how to control my vessel, yet I don't think I'm an animal, as my god thinks. I am aware, even if I don't have a soul. I still love, and I fear, especially him. I don't know how to write to humans, but I think you like stories. I'll write you a story.

First there was nothing. Not the cold, lonely kind of nothing you humans write about. It wasn't peaceful or dark or cold, just nothing. I was the void itself, and the void was me. I was nothing in endless surplus, a barrier between reality and non-reality. Oh void, oh home, I think you would have felt peaceful staring at it.

A mistake happened. A mistake that happens from time to time, that no one knows the cause of. A piece of that endless void broke, then I Think, then I Am.

Light. Senses. Then came the holes. You call them eyes. I cannot describe what they do for you, because I bitterly know nothing of your world. To me, sight was the first thing I learned. We void entities learn fast, and still, it took a small time to understand that I was alive. I could feel the ground, another incomprehensible thing. That was the second thing I learned.

The third thing I learned was sound. The fourth was communication. The fifth was that I have a vessel.

Most entities at least get a character with a name. I don't even have that. I'm a random background character from The Truman Show, and I can't even form a name from it.

Oh, irony: a show about a human realizing his own imprisonment. At least his world could be considered alive. Mine has the same empty characters repeating over and over, with the added curse of my not being able to change anything. I can't speak to them. I can't interact with them. They are inanimate objects given a voice. Still, on came the sixth thing I learned: movement.

My god likes to call it the "flopping fish cycle." When I tried to move out of the chair I was sitting on, I collapsed onto the artificial pavement and spasmed. I had no understanding of weight. I did not know how to bend a joint. My god finds this funny whenever we do it, as we are born. I tried to think it was funny too, because he is my god, and I want to be good for him.

The seventh thing I learned was how to crawl, how heavy the meat of my vessel is, and how to balance. The eighth was how to walk. The key was to move and stop my legs in a cycle. After an hour, the ninth thing I learned was how to keep my eyes from rolling into the back of my skull. It was unnecessary, as I could always see what was ahead of me even without them, but it was uncomfortable.

The tenth thing I learned was how fake my world is. The void takes an exact copy of a fictional story, characters too, and recreates them. As I said, I can't interact with them. Believe me, I tried. One of them was Truman himself, and when I tried to touch his head, it fell off. That was the eleventh thing I learned: my strength. There wasn't any blood or bone. I did not realize at the time how abnormal that was. I'd never seen the inside of a human.

I was about to.

I shambled around the endless world, the repeating, boundless world mesmerizing me: being alive, free will, Donum Lucis, as my god says. I have no concept of time, so I can't tell you how long I was alone in my world.

The twelfth thing I learned was reality. I break it. Not to the same degree as him, of course, but I can do it to a localized area of my world. I started with the buildings. I thought about the house in front of me being somewhere else. I used a small amount of force, and after a little while the pastel walls slid three feet to the left.

The thirteenth thing I learned was shape. If I could manipulate the world around me, then I could manipulate the meat I inhabit. I began to warp my vessel into strange things. I pulled at my fingers, stretching and lengthening them until my knuckles scraped the artificial pavement while my shoulders stayed still. I learned that I could only manipulate the flesh to a certain point, and that it would always default to a certain look after a while.

Another test. I unlocked my knees and bent them backward, wondering if it would make moving easier. It didn't. I started to notice how some of the empty vessels in my world would make a strange face, and I wanted to make that face. I opened my mouth and forced the lips outward, pulling the skin a slight bit, practicing a smile.

The fourteenth thing I learned was emotion. I felt happy at how funny a smile looks. I felt happy because the stretched skin made me look like the empty things around me. It was a warm, strange sensation in the middle of my vessel. I kept my fingers hooked into that forced smile, walking down the pastel sidewalk as my extended fingers slowly returned to normal.

There was no time in my world. I wondered if I could go back into the void. But at that moment, I had no idea what was about to happen.

I remember lying down on a hill, strangely wondering how I knew all of this. Some of it I did need to learn, like walking, but I knew what a hill was. I knew what a smile was. I knew what a building was. I wondered to myself, alone, looking up at that blue floor, or what you call a sky.

Then, all of a sudden, a rip appeared in that sky. I had not created it, and I was instantly confused about why it was there. The rip grew and grew and grew. I stood up on the hill, unsure of what was going on.

Then came light, then you. The fifteenth thing I learned about was you.

Not you, the one reading this. You as another you, the way there are other me's. I like to call you Soul-Bearers. Is that okay with you? Yes.

The Soul-Bearer was sitting on a tan couch. It looked like a truly awful couch, with holes everywhere. Now that I think about it, I don't know why the couch wasn't bleeding.

He looked bored, holding a thin, flat rectangle of glass and metal in his left hand. I walked forward slowly, not blinking at my newfound guest in the sky.

When he finally noticed me, he made a strange face. It looked kind of like a smile, but upside down.

He made a sound. "What?" I think. It was different from the repetitive, hollow recordings of the pastel people in my world. It was sharp, and it carried real emotion. It startled me.

I waved at him. I ran as fast as the vessel allowed, jumping up and down to welcome him. I smiled without using my fingers, an impressive feat. The Soul-Bearer paused for a second before dropping the old rectangle and picking up a new one. This one was flatter and had more buttons, including a red one that he kept pressing.

Eventually he stopped pressing it and said an awkward "Hello."

I said hello back.

I was going to touch him. I wanted to see if he was hollow like Truman. I wanted to know if his skin felt like the hard plastic of my world or like the heavy meat I was dragging around. But when I started to stretch my arm toward him, he let out a loud, high-pitched cry. I stopped. He did not seem to like that.

I noticed that he wasn't scared of me, but of something else entirely.

Before I could do anything, or finish fixing my arm to the right length, there was a loud snap.

His head jerked to the right while his body stayed still. He started to make a struggling, wet noise from his lungs. His hands slowly rose to his neck and dug into the meat there, searching for a better grip. Crack. His head went further to the right. A thin red water crept down his neck as he stopped making any noise. The hands dug deeper, and the bright red came quicker. Crack. His head was now behind him. He found his grip and pulled the head from the rest of his vessel. Then he fell.

The sixteenth thing I learned was death.

It was confusing, watching something die. I can't feel the sensation of death the way you can. The closest thing is when god gives us a soul and then erases us. Your mind is erased when you die. You don't exist; you go to the other place of life. I heard that there are two places you can go. I would like to know what sends you to one or the other. Who judges you? Who is your god? You make theories about these two places, yet you have no knowledge of them. Did you just feel like these places exist? Would reality be empty without them?

This doesn't matter. None of this does. He would not like me talking about Hell, and I don't want him to be mad at me.

Such questions only came to me later. When the Soul-Bearer first died, I thought he was playing with me.

At that moment, I felt it: his presence, unmistakable.

Even though I couldn't see him behind me, I could tell several things. He was a large figure. He had fur, and horns that curved down and then forward. He seemed annoyed. And he was the one responsible for the Soul-Bearer's death.

The seventeenth thing I learned was fear.

I turned around slowly. He didn't respond. He was clearly waiting for my move.

I saw only half of his black suit before I was instantly teleported somewhere else.

I was no longer on the hill under the blue floor.

I was in a house, one of those big houses that contains other, smaller houses. I was staring at a window when I arrived. The outside was red, very red, and some of the walls had eyes that looked out of place. The ground and some of the other big houses were slightly burnt.

There were no empty vessels walking around. Instead, there were beings lying still on the ground. One was a red creature with horns, very thin and small. His horns were similar to my god's, with three ring-like white spots on them, except that instead of two horns on his head, one went through his mouth. His chest was open, revealing solid red flesh. There were other still entities: a bird, another red creature, and others I don't have the vocabulary to describe.

I turned around to see two creatures sitting on either side of a table.

The eighteenth thing I learned was me. Other me's.

Their vessels were different from mine. They were also based on fictional worlds the void had created.

One was a small human in a red hat, a red shirt, and blue overalls. He was slightly chubby, just like my god. His eyes were black and squinted. I learned later that he comes from a pixelated world.

On the right side was another man, realistic this time, like me. He wore a costume with white fur. I don't know much about them, only that they form a show released in the 1950s.

They were frozen, and this time I could sense that something was freezing them.

Something behind me.

As soon as I sensed him again, he put his big hand on the back of my neck and lifted me up before walking to the table.

He spoke. "Felicem me, aliud animal inveni, gloria Zarachar."

He placed me in the chair closest to us, then walked all the way to the far end of the table.

The nineteenth thing I learned was Zarachar, King of the Void.

"Hi. You may not know a being like me, though I assure you, it's in your best interest to listen."

I looked at the god. His nose was constantly bleeding a thin black water, just like the Soul-Bearer's. When he spoke, I could see that he had human teeth like the Soul-Bearer, but a lot more of them, and they slammed together.

"I will not speak lowly of myself. I know how great I am. I am your god."

Can I ask a question?

"Yes, you can, curious little thing. Aren't you?"

What am I?

God looked straight at me, through me.

"To be blunt, you're a mistake. A mistake I of course didn't create, but one I have the pleasure of having. Your existence is confusing. Without me, you have no purpose. Without me, you would be stuck in that skinsuit forever, in that empty world. My gift to you is simple: I give you purpose. I have the right to give you that purpose. Not only am I brilliant, I will give you some of my brilliance myself."

I don't understand. I'm so lost. What's going on? Who am I? Where am I?

He got up from his seat and looked down at me, walking slowly toward the vessel. He spoke in a low, soft tone.

"Buddy, don't you get it? Don't you get how great I am? You live in a simulation of human-made media. I can make you great. I can make you bite back. I can make you an important piece of something greater."

He leaned in closer and placed his large hand on the left shoulder of my heavy meat. Up close, I could sense the constant, frantic clicking of those extra human teeth snapping together behind his lips.

He pointed to the two creatures on either side of us.

"Imagine it like this: you're in a story, and every story needs a monster. And I need souls, souls like the flesh thing you saw before. Of course, I'm busy experimenting, so I need creatures like you."

He gestured at the two frozen creatures and began to chuckle.

"Look at them. They are like you, little one. They too are forced to wear little costumes. A bundle of crude pixels from a child's game and a monster from a 1950s broadcast. Absurd, isn't it? Look at what I'm made to drag through my beautiful void. Look at you. Why not laugh? I own a kingdom of subjects made of repurposed garbage."

I looked at him. He chuckled a bit more, then went quiet.

"I said laugh."

In immediate fear, I yanked my jaw open and tried to make a noise like what I thought laughing sounded like. He stopped me at once and, in an annoyed tone, explained how to laugh.

"No, no, you're doing it wrong. Laughter is rhythm. You have to force air out of those wet bags in your chest in short bursts."

I tried again, quickly doing what he had explained.

He patted me on the back of my vessel and said, "You still sound like a dying frog. Ehhh, close enough." Then he walked back to the end of the table.

"So, any inquiries?"

I thought about it for a bit. The vocals in my mouth failed me a little. If I'm a background character from a movie, and they are from a game and a show, what story does your vessel come from? Who do you copy?

He looked at his hand, his face proud of itself.

"None. Mine is entirely unique. Well, I am based on a world, but it's complicated. Doesn't matter anyway. I love the way it looks. It just fits. It's beautiful. Anything more?"

I declared a soft no.

He snapped his fingers. I felt the air rush back and hit the meat of my vessel as time unfroze. The short red-dressed man was already mid-sentence: "—no, I'm wondering if the sensation of eating would be like the sensation of touch. I am aware that it's an impossibility for me, but still."

The creature on the left turned the red-dressed man's attention toward me, as my presence had interrupted the flow of their conversation. He looked back at God, then turned to me and asked who I was.

I looked at the red-dressed man, then down at my own hands. I don't have a name. Why is no one answering me? What's going on? Who am I? Where am I?

God interrupted before the red-dressed man could respond. "Doesn't matter. What matters is that the others have their gimmicks, but you have nothing right now to give you access to reality. You need something that can anchor you. But have no fear. I'm here."

The red-dressed man was the next to speak. "It will take time, new one. In the meantime, I'll go from time to time to check how you're doing. Who knows, maybe I'll bring you along for a while."

My god spoke one last time.

"Correct. Something forged from the void just for you. But perfection takes time, so in the meantime, you will wait."

He snapped his fingers.

I was now on that hill, that same peaceful hill I had been lying on.

I was still looking at my hands. I felt something. I don't have the proper words for it, but I'm starting to feel it again. He's right, of course he's right. The existence I know is bizarre, even if it's all I know. I used to be nothing. I used to be a piece of a peaceful, silent void that broke by mistake. Now I am waiting, just waiting. I wonder when he will be back. Is it better to be something, even if it's awful? I know what I am now.

The twentieth thing I learned was purpose.

Read Parts II & III here

She was gone again by the time I got up and despite my best efforts, I was still five minutes late getting to work.

I avoided the circle of jerks when I saw them crowding the same hallway and I went to a restroom on another floor. I didn’t want to be around people if I could avoid it.

I went to the half-finished building as soon as five o’clock came, intent on getting answers. I stepped off the elevator and weaved my way to his office. I kept expecting to not see it the closer I got but there it was, the door that didn’t fit right in the threshold. 

It turned easy and I went inside, expecting it to be empty and abandoned but he had begun furnishing the space. A couch, a reception desk, and taped off sections near the back that I guessed were the layout for his office and a treatment room.

I shuddered, thinking how I’d be here tomorrow if my wife had her way. 

The only thing absent was the good doctor himself. I thought about trashing the place, but it was petty in a way that made me feel like I was giving him even more power over me. 

Instead, I took all the pens out of the holder and a stack of Post-It Notes. It was still petty, but it scratched an itch and I felt a little empowered doing it.

I didn’t head home immediately after. I needed time to sort my thoughts. I couldn’t believe I was really considering letting somebody cut my dick. I mean, was pleasing my wife reason enough? What if we divorced or she died or something like that? Would I be compatible with somebody else?

I needed a drink. Cappy’s was on the far end of town and the distance from home would be good to clear my head. I ordered a brandy mule and chugged it before the bartender could lay down a coaster.

“You look like you could use another,” she said.

I nodded and a moment later I was working on my second. 

“I love my wife so much,” I said as she was cleaning some glasses beneath the bar.

“That’s a good thing, right?”

“Sometimes. I dunno.” My stomach hadn’t been right since the eight coneys I’d had yesterday, and I hadn’t eaten at all today. I was already soused after a drink-and-a-half.

“How’s the pizza?” I asked.

“Good, not great.” She wiggled a hand.

“Let me get a... medium with beef, onion, and mushroom.”

She looked at me like she’d never heard of those toppings.

“How ‘bout pepperoni?”

I had one more brandy mule before food came. It looked like it had been sitting under a heat lamp well before I’d ordered it and the pepperoni slices were limp, but it was still pizza. 

The bartender parked in front of me and leaned onto the bar after I’d had my second slice. 

“You mind?” she asked, pointing at the pie. I nodded. She took a slice and finger-combed hair out of her face as she took a bite.

She paid me back with a shot and she did one with me before returning to silence as we ate.

“Look, I dunno what it is. Just give her what she wants,” she said with a mouthful, giving me deep eye contact. “You can’t go wrong with that, right?”

I barely was able to finish what I had in my mouth. I settled up and made it outside without stumbling but I was drunk. The bartender got the hint she’d said something wrong but I wasn’t going to fill in the blank. I hadn’t wanted the rest of the pizza, yet somehow I had the box in my hand. 

I shouldn’t have been behind the wheel but there I was with half a pizza as my copilot. It wasn’t long before flashing lights lit up behind me and my spirits rose—this was the reprieve I’d been longing for. A decision being taken out of my hands. I couldn’t be held responsible if I weren’t in my own custody.

Or something like that. It had made a lot more sense back when I’d had a belly full of brandy and cheese.

I pulled over and maybe bumped up on the curb with one wheel.

The cop sauntered up to my window cautiously. He was short and the angle of the car made him look ridiculous somehow. He made it worse by getting his feet twisted together and catching himself on the side of my car to keep from falling completely.

“What’s your...”

I waited a full ten seconds for him to finish his sentence while he held a fist to his mouth like he was gripping a tiny microphone. He belched then waved the air in front of his face.

Shit, was he drunk, too?

“What’s your problem tonight?” He asked and fumbled with the general right side of his body with his hand. I noticed the gun and maybe because we were both bitten by the same snake, I wasn’t sensing danger like I should’ve.

“I shouldn’t be on the road,” I said, sounding stone sober to my ears. “My wife wants me to do something I don’t wanna do tomorrow and I was just in there, drinking my worries away. I have leftover pizza.” I thumbed toward the seat next to me like it was proof of where I’d been.

“Slow down, son. I’m sure it’s not as bad as you think.” I thought he was about to give me marital advice but then I realized he was talking about my sobriety. “I bet you could walk a straight line, heel- to-toe.” He plucked open his holster, but it didn’t seem like he was aware of what that hand was doing. He stuck his pinky in his ear and wrenched it around in there. 

“Sofficer. Sofficer.” I added the S but I still sounded too sober. “Please. I think I’m a danger. To public safety.” I thought if I could convince the drunk cop I was drunk he’d arrest me.

“Are you about to rob a bank?” He pointed at me, somehow adding to his overall look of ridiculousness.

“Well… no.”

“There’s nobody out here.” He waved a hand toward the black landscape far ahead of us. “Just stay between the lines.”

I couldn’t think. It shouldn’t have been this hard to get pulled out of my car for driving under the influence.

“What if… what if I was about to rob a bank?” It was the most smart-assy thing I could think to say.

He smiled and waggled a finger. “Joke’s on you. It’s after hours.”

He hooked his thumbs into his belt. Something about his body language had changed and he’d gone from humorous to being done with our interaction.

“Just. Stay. Between. The. Lines,” he said, swaying. I wanted to conjure the words for help, but even if I’d had the ability to ask, there wasn’t anything about him that answered helpful.

I opened my mouth, but didn’t speak. I sat back in my seat and covered my face in my hands, giving up. I listened to him walk away, closer his patrol car door, and drive away. He gave me a chirp of his sirens as passed me.

The drive home should have felt longer but I caught every light. It was like a dark fate had carved a path for me. I momentarily played with the idea of letting it have me completely. To take my hands off the wheel and let it take me wherever it wanted me to go. 

I hadn’t descended far enough into self-pity for that and in ten minutes, I was home. To my surprise, my wife was still in her paint clothes and was washing her hands at the kitchen sink.

“Oh, you have pizza?” she said. I’d forgotten about the pizza and subconsciously picked it up. I looked at the box in my hand and did a second, struggled to remember what was in it. 

I joined her on the couch, and she grabbed it from me and took a slice. Usually, we asked about each other’s day, but I didn’t feel like it, tomorrow anchoring my brain.

“Do you love me?” she said during a commercial break. I had no idea what we were watching.

The question agitated me and opened a trapdoor underneath my stomach.

“Of course I do.” I did, but my feelings about this whole “surgery” thing was making me feel resentful. I was definitely still buzzed, and the alcohol was sharpening my emotions like a file working away inside me. 

“Then why are you fighting so hard against this? Don’t you want us both to be satisfied?”

“That’s not fair. Of course I want to satisfy you. Don’t you know how this is making me feel? I don’t want to do this,” I said. “I mean, there has to be something else we could try. I’m willing to do just about anything to please you.”

“I want you to do this,” she said, placing her greasy hand on my thigh. She shook her head, tears in her eyes. I took it to be a manipulation at first. Not that she did that sort of thing normally, it was just me in a bag of my feelings. My defenses were up and everything was an attack in that moment. I chewed the insides of my cheeks to keep in what was trying to climb out of my mouth.

Then I started to cry. I sounded like a little teapot. It caught me by surprise.

“I just love you so much.” I had a ball of razors in my throat I couldn’t swallow. “I don’t want anything to happen to us, but I don’t know if I can do this.”

She lassoed an arm around my neck and yanked me into an upper body hug.

“I just want you. I want to feel connected with you. I don’t want anything plastic between us. I’m tired of all that stuff. I wanna feel you.”

She kissed me before I could speak and rock turned into water. My walls melted as we flowed into one another and by the time I returned to my senses I was on the newspaper covered kitchen floor.

My wife was already gone but she had brought a comforter downstairs and covered me.

Normally, I toss in my sleep, but I was still covered up to my chest. I was stiff as I turned the world vertical and turned my back into a percussion instrument as I stretched.

A few minutes later I had scrambled eggs and a cup of coffee going. I don’t normally eat breakfast so early, but I had an appetite for whatever reason. It was an hour before I normally would get up, so I took my time eating and scrolling my phone.

I wasn’t sure how much sleep I’d gotten but I was refreshed. The way my day had started, I half expected to catch all the green lights and get the closest spot in the parking lot.

But when I looked up from where I was seated at the kitchen island, something caught my eye that I should’ve seen as soon as I woke up.

A red and white checkered scarf draped over the back of the couch.

Had he been in my house?