Room 201, Wednesday Morning

Owen still hadn't quite gotten into the habit of checking his phone all the time. He could have easily missed the message Nina had left him before he listened to radio, and most days, he probably would have.

But this morning he'd knocked it off his nightstand as he was getting up. He groped groggily for the device and squinted at the screen.

Hey, Owen! Um, like, I know I should probably tell you this in person, it read, before the message devolved into a bunch of periods he knew meant 'more message beyond this point', but even that phrase, well-- had there ever been a time in history anyone had used that phrase and it'd been a good thing?

He unlocked his phone.

He read the whole thing.

He sank down next to his bed slowly, until his butt hit the floor and drew a quick "umph" from him.

(Had he been too emotional around her? Maybe he should've been cheerier. This wouldn't have happened if he'd been cheerier. If he'd been better. If he'd been--)

I just don't think we're suited

(What did that even mean? She said it wasn't about the date, but that couldn't be true. He'd screwed up. He always screwed up. He was always--

less important screwing up)

He sat there for a while, until his head was empty of spiraling thoughts and the only thing rattling in there was the flight pattern of a sparrow, roaming around just outside his window.

At least he was already alone in his room anyway.

[[ door closed, post open ]]