Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 95008 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 475(@200wpm)___ 380(@250wpm)___ 317(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95008 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 475(@200wpm)___ 380(@250wpm)___ 317(@300wpm)
I slept so hard that when I woke up a few hours later, I was disoriented. What was I doing on the couch? What time was it? Where was Charlie? Was I late for work? Thankfully, after less than a minute, I’d gotten my wits back. I checked my phone again to make sure I hadn’t missed any calls and refreshed the local news page.
The apartment was still at level one, but something seemed different when I looked at the little red, yellow, and green areas of the map. Had the boundaries moved? I couldn’t tell.
As I pushed myself up off the couch and headed to my room, I called Charlie.
“What’s up?” she answered. “You coming over?”
“No,” I said with a laugh. “We’re still at level one, but I think I’m going to take that be ready to heart and pack up some stuff in case I need to bail.”
“Good call,” she replied. “Don’t worry about my shit, I already grabbed anything I couldn’t live without if our apartment went up in a fiery inferno.”
“When?” I asked in surprise.
“When they made us level one.”
“Why didn’t I notice?”
“Probably because there isn’t a ton of shit I can’t live without,” Charlie replied. “I got my electronics and important paperwork and some jewelry and shit. The rest was just clothes and toiletries to stay with my parents. No big deal.”
I looked around my room. What couldn’t I live without?
“I better get packing,” I mumbled. “I don’t even know where to start.”
“Birth certificate, EpiPen, and bank shit,” Charlie replied instantly. “Did you need help or something?”
“No,” I said distractedly. “I was calling to see if I needed to grab anything of yours.”
“Oh, thanks,” she said, a smile in her voice. “I’m good. If I think of anything I forgot, I’ll let you know.”
“Alright.”
“Let me know if you leave the apartment, okay?” she asked. “Just so I know where you are.”
“Will do. Are you guys okay at your parents’ place?”
“All good here,” she assured me. “Level two still and the smoke is terrible, but no sign of fire.”
“Jesus,” I mumbled. “Please leave before you see fire.”
“I’ll do what I can,” she said with a laugh before hanging up.
With a sigh, I looked around my room. I wasn’t really sure what to take. There were a thousand little things that I’d prefer not to lose, but what was really important? Following Charlie’s advice, I double checked that I had my EpiPen in my purse, then pulled out my birth certificate, passport, school and bank information and stacked them on my bed. Those would have to go with me, for sure. I also grabbed the little notebook I used to keep track of bills and added it to the pile.
Setting my hands on my hips, I looked around. Okay, clothes and shoes next. As I picked through the things I may need, I set them on the bed next to my important stuff pile. After a few minutes, the stacks had grown so much that I was grimacing. The idea of having to pick and choose what I wanted to leave behind was harder than I’d thought it would be. After a few minutes of arguing with myself about what I actually needed, I put about half of the clothes back into my dresser and decided I wouldn’t open the drawers again for any reason. Toiletries were easier because I didn’t have much. I used the fancy shampoo, conditioner, face wash and moisturizers that Charlie’s mom, Farrah, recommended, but it was a pretty streamlined system. I hadn’t really cared about that stuff in a long time, and it was nice having someone else just tell me what I should use.
A little less than an hour after I started gathering my stuff, I had everything packed into a large suitcase, a duffle bag, a small cardboard box, a milk crate, and a backpack that was only halfway filled.
I sat on the edge of my bed and looked at the top shelf my closet. Did I need anything in there? Would it really matter if I left it all behind? If I took it with me, what would that say?
The small box at the far left side of the shelf seemed to stand out like a beacon, even though I’d been successful at ignoring it since I’d stashed it there when we’d moved into our apartment.
“Fuck it,” I mumbled, surging to my feet. I emptied the backpack and carried it over to the closet. The box was light, but I still put it into the bag as fast as I could. Even touching it seemed like a bad idea. Then I put the contents I’d poured out of the backpack back into it, successfully hiding the box.
After debating for a few minutes, I decided to put my packed belongings by the front door instead of in my car. If I had to leave, it would still be pretty easy to lug them down the stairs, but I didn’t take the chance of all my stuff being stolen if someone noticed it outside.