God Gave Me Nothing. | Short Story
"Good work!!" "You're doing great!"
"It's okay, it's okay! It can't be helped if you didn't get it. Let's do our best next time."
The shoulder that was lightly patted definitely hurt. Where does the shoulder end, and where does the heart begin?
The pain became muddled in my brain.
Shut up.
Then why doesn't God give me anything?
I've known that for a long time.
That thin smile of yours tastes the same as the canned coffee in your right hand.
Recalling the metallic taste mixed into the coffee, saliva pooled in my mouth.
My tongue grew sticky.
My throat tightened.
When I swallowed, it made a gulping sound.
"Do you want to drink this?"
"...Thank you."
I lifted the corners of my mouth to their usual position. The muscles in my cheeks were a beat late. My clenched back teeth ached slightly.
A shabby, eight-mat apartment. This was my everything.
While working a sales job I didn't even want, I produced clumsy works night after night.
I had posted over 500 times.
No one ever dug them up; they just lay there.
I had eight followers.
Only she, among them, gave me comments without fail.
2:00 AM.
I post right on time.
2:12 AM.
My smartphone vibrates.
1 Like.
1 Comment.
"The ending is the best."
Just seven characters.
Even the period that didn't count as a character was her.
I lit a cigarette and stood in front of the ventilation fan. The exhaled smoke was sucked away while forming distorted swirls. Even after the smoke vanished, the screen remained the same.
I pressed her icon. Both her following and follower counts were in the thousands.
I traced her likes. After scrolling many times, I finally found an icon I recognized.
I opened the work listed one above mine. In the comment section, there were traces of her typing.
I tapped it with my fingertip.
"The ending was especially moving!"
I pressed 'Like' on her comment directed at someone else, too.
Damn it...
At first, that was all it took.
Past 2:10, the words pile up.
I came again today. I ended up crying. There was nothing today.
The hair on my arms stood up one by one.
My body had been waiting for her before I even knew it.
It still hasn't rung. ...Don't mess with me. I fled to the bathroom. I twisted the white lever and doused myself in cold water from head to toe. At the coldness, my brain screamed in protest first. A moment later, my skin broke out in goosebumps, and my whole body shriveled up. The outside being pelted by water, and the inside that kept waiting for her. Between the two, a clear outline emerged. As I kept bathing in it, the coldness gradually seeped beneath my skin. The outline that had separated the outside from the inside blurred, and eventually, it melted away. Before I knew it, it wasn't cold anymore. Even so, only her icon, stuck deep in the back of my mind, didn't lose its heat.
When I got out of the bath, I lunged for my smartphone without even properly drying my feet. Water dripping from my hair stained the screen.
2:25.
I always look forward to it. With just those words, I poured the remaining half of my canned chuhai down the sink. In the corner of her icon, I could see a familiar red can. The taste of his canned coffee spread through my mouth. Even so, I felt relieved and collapsed onto my futon. Exactly 2:00 again today. I make a post. 2:15. I don't know how many times I've refreshed the smartphone screen. The smartphone vibrates. I know the words that follow. I know she writes that to everyone, too. What a slut. Don't be so kind. Today, too, I take out a cigarette and light it.
...Disgusting.
I opened the pack a week ago.
Even so, I smoked it right down to the filter. The last breath burned my throat.
I crushed the cigarette butt into the ashtray.