Now , in the dark , quiet apartment , the cumulative exhaustion crashes over me .
You ’ re never going to find anyone else .
I crawl onto the bed and try to sleep . The young man was right . It ’ s quiet here .
After a while , my stomach rumbles . I have some food in my suitcase — apples , granola bars . I don ’ t want to go the grocery store yet . I can ’ t even bring myself to get up and eat . I just want to sit in the dark and rest .
The only light in the apartment comes from wall sconces , which come to life on their own . They must be set to a timer . It must be dark now outside now . The covered window is dark .
Even with the sconces illuminated , the apartment is dim . It looks like a hotel room , like a fancy old hotel room with a bed and a small table . There ’ s no bathroom . And no kitchen , either , I realize . Two things I missed online .
I tell myself the lack of kitchen doesn ’ t matter . Henry never wanted to eat the things I cooked . He said he couldn ’ t taste them . And the food I bought always seemed to go off in the fridge . Mostly , we ordered in . I suppose I ’ ll continue that pattern here , alone .
Later , wrapped in a towel , I trek down the hall to the communal bathroom with my plastic bag of shampoo and conditioner . It ’ s a relief not to see anyone in the hall . But I hear hurried footsteps on the floor above me .
The bathroom is filthy . It smells like mildew , dust , and dirt .
The water from the shower comes out as a weak , cold drip . It dies before the shampoo is rinsed from my hair .
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