The clicking sounds of the keyboard echoed in my dark room, illuminated only by two screens, one of which was the monitor that showed the words I typed.
A monitor on the lowest backlight setting.
I stopped typing.
I covered my face and let my head slump to the desk, then let out a sigh.
'Something wrong?'
'.....My head.'
'You have a headache?'
'No.... The usual.'
'I see. Take your time, okay?'
'Mmn...'
Even without taking a glance, I could tell that she smiled as she spoke behind me.
I seriously suffered from depression. Or at least, people define it that way. I don't feel like I'm suffering, though I'm well aware I'm... different. But I feel okay. I work, I pay my tax, I don't disturb the society. Or anyone. I just don't feel like interacting with people, I get mentally down all the time, and I'm photophobic.
I wrote, and heck, I was good at it. But I couldn't work around people and my editor just had to let me send in my work without even showing my face after getting the job. A girl I'd known from childhood started to come around very often to keep me company. She also worked from here, but I never really asked what she actually does.
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Such selflessness. I guess there's people like that. Having someone around who'd just be quiet, do their thing and not ask much about my abnormalities did keep me calm. I wonder how she knew that.
Still, I can't help but imagine that a normal person having a depressed person alone with them might just make them at least a bit sadder, in a sense.
Besides, I don't like to bother people. I didn't like the idea of someone going out of their way to help me.
'Uh.. I decided... to get a trained dog..'
'Oh. You want a pet?'
I scratched my head with my fingertips, waited a few seconds for "trained" to sink in.
'-Ah.'
I like people who comprehend without I needing to rephrase, and speak. Again.
'So, you don't need to stress yourself by coming over all the time to help my.. "condition."'
There was a long pause.
She turned off her phone's screen, leaving my dim monitor to illuminate the room all alone.
She picked her bag and left. I never saw her since then.
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That was two weeks ago.
Now I discover that the presence of a more sentient and intelligent animal (human) feels different from that of a stinky dog.
Maybe I'll get a cat later. Way more hygienic.
But more importantly, who's ringing my doorbell? A Salesman? Jehovah's witnesses? I'm in just about the right mood to slam the door on someone's face right now. I squinted as I walked through the living room with the lights on. It would give my eyes a heads-up for the omnidirectional laser beam that was the sunlight which I would face when I opened the door.
Mustang danced around my feet, wagging her tail and yapping to get my attention.
I have a terrible sense of naming.
I turned the handle and pulled, my arm itching to slam it back while they were talking mid-sentence.
But my arm froze holding the door ajar.
Ah.
She came back.
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'Your hair's messy. As usual.'
A/N: Yeah. From the text at the top, it's quite obvious that I didn't work on this for long. ฅ^•ﻌ•^ฅ It's just a little idea I wanted to get off my head (and console my state of loneliness *sob). I have other stories in actual development though. Hopefully I'll start to release them soon. Till then...!
