Friday drags by like a corpse I’m being forced to pull across broken glass.
I’m staring at my fourteenth insurance claim of the day, a guy in Medford who allegedly broke his collarbone, and my brain is doing absolutely nothing with the information on the screen. The words might as well be in another language. I’ve read the same paragraph three times and retained exactly zero of it.
I lean back and stare at the ceiling.
It’s been days since Nicole messaged me. The house has been quiet. No AIM windows popping up. No CD cases mysteriously falling off counters. No dreams about purple walls and carved messages. Just me, my work laptop, and the slow march toward the weekend.
I roll my chair back and stand up, stretching until my spine cracks.
“Nicole,” I say to the empty room. “I’m bored.”
Nothing happens.
I walk to the kitchen, fill a glass with water, drink half of it, and set it on the counter. The silence in the house feels heavier than usual. Not threatening, just empty.
I wander back to my desk and drop into the seat.
“Nicole,” I say again, louder this time. “I’m so bored. Come talk to me.”
Still nothing.
I pull up the Medford claim and force myself to read through it properly. The algorithm assigned two thousand dollars. I scan the medical reports, the witness statements. Everything checks out. I approve it as-is.
“Nicole!” I call out. “Come on. I’m dying here.”
The room stays quiet.
I check the time. 2:47 PM. Still another two hours before I can reasonably call it a day without Bill sending me some passive-aggressive message about “core hours” and “team accountability.”
I open the next file.
“Nicole, seriously. I’m bored out of my mind. Just pop up and threaten to kill me or tell me to get out or call me stupid. Anything.”
I say it again. And again. Every couple of minutes, throwing it out into the room like I’m trying to summon her through sheer repetition.
By 3:15, I’m just saying her name on repeat while I work. Not even full sentences anymore. Just “Nicole” every thirty seconds or so, like a mantra.
“Nicole. Nicole. Nicole.”
The AIM notification sound cuts through the room.
The blocky grey window is back on my gaming laptop, sitting in the corner of the display like it’s been waiting for me to shut up.
Nicole_luvs_NSYNC: WHAT?!
Nicole_luvs_NSYNC: WTF DO YOU WANT!!!!!!!
A grin tugs at my mouth.
“Nicole, I’m just so bored.”
The text field sits empty for a second.
Nicole_luvs_NSYNC: so?
Nicole_luvs_NSYNC: thats not my problem
“But it could be your problem,” I say. “You could help me out by talking to me.”
Nicole_luvs_NSYNC: y would i do that
Nicole_luvs_NSYNC: i hate u
“Because you answered. If you really hated me, you would’ve kept ignoring me.”
Nicole_luvs_NSYNC: ...
Nicole_luvs_NSYNC: i was tryin to ignore u
Nicole_luvs_NSYNC: but u kept saying my name
Nicole_luvs_NSYNC: over and over and over
Nicole_luvs_NSYNC: like a fucking psycho
I snort. “Yeah, I know. I was doing it on purpose.”
Nicole_luvs_NSYNC: UR SO ANNOYING
“So what do you do all day?” I ask.
Nicole_luvs_NSYNC: :’-(
Nicole_luvs_NSYNC: literally nothing
I lean closer, watching the cursor blink. That’s actually kind of sad.
“Aren’t you bored?”
Nicole_luvs_NSYNC: yes
Nicole_luvs_NSYNC: always
“Then let’s be friends.”
The text field sits empty longer than usual.
Nicole_luvs_NSYNC: but youre so weird
Nicole_luvs_NSYNC: i saw you jerking off yesterday
Nicole_luvs_NSYNC: it was so gross
I blink. Then I laugh, because honestly, what else am I supposed to do? It’s not like I feel embarrassed. This is basically the same as having an imaginary friend who happened to be in the room. Which is exactly what this is, when you get down to it.
“You watched me jerking off?” I say out loud.
Nicole_luvs_NSYNC: NO
Nicole_luvs_NSYNC: i didnt WATCH
Nicole_luvs_NSYNC: i just saw u
Nicole_luvs_NSYNC: and then i left immediately
Nicole_luvs_NSYNC: bc it was disgusting
“Sure.”
Nicole_luvs_NSYNC: IM SERIOUS
“If it bothered you that much, you probably shouldn’t bring it up.”
Nicole_luvs_NSYNC: i brought it up bc ur asking me to be ur friend
Nicole_luvs_NSYNC: and i cant be friends with someone who just
Nicole_luvs_NSYNC: does that
Nicole_luvs_NSYNC: in MY house
“It’s my house now. I’m paying rent.”
Nicole_luvs_NSYNC: ITS MY HOUSE
Nicole_luvs_NSYNC: i died here
Nicole_luvs_NSYNC: that makes it mine
“So if I die here, it’ll be my house then?”
Nicole_luvs_NSYNC: UGHHHHH
“Alright, Nicole. You have to meet me halfway here. Is there anything you want to know about that I can answer for you? You died a while back, right? So there’s got to be things you want to know.”
Nicole_luvs_NSYNC: I can kinda use the internet a lil
“Like you can still post online?”
Nicole_luvs_NSYNC: no its hard to explain... i dont use a computer to do it
I furrow my brow. “Do you have a phone?”
Nicole_luvs_NSYNC: no
“Do you watch a lot of YouTube?”
Nicole_luvs_NSYNC: sometimes
I do the math in my head. “You died in ninety-nine. When did YouTube come around?”
Nicole_luvs_NSYNC: I found it in 07
“Damn. I was only born in two thousand and one.”
Nicole_luvs_NSYNC: ugh so young...
“I’m twenty-five. You’re twenty-two.”
Nicole_luvs_NSYNC: ya but i was 22 in 1999
Nicole_luvs_NSYNC: thats not the same
I tap my fingers on the desk. “So you’re what, forty-nine then?”
Nicole_luvs_NSYNC: No... 22
Nicole_luvs_NSYNC: 22 forever
“Well, there are worse ages to be stuck at forever.”
Nicole_luvs_NSYNC: i guess
Since she’s just a hallucination anyway, there’s no real reason to hold back.
“For what it’s worth, I thought you were really attractive. In that dream I had.”
I pause for a second.
“Your tits are huge, too.”
Nicole_luvs_NSYNC: ...
Nicole_luvs_NSYNC: WTF
Nicole_luvs_NSYNC: u cant just SAY that
“Why not?”
Nicole_luvs_NSYNC: bc its WEIRD
Nicole_luvs_NSYNC: ur such a creep
“You brought up the jerk-off thing first,” I counter. “Just returning the favor.”
Nicole_luvs_NSYNC: I DIDNT WATCH
Nicole_luvs_NSYNC: I TOLD U I LEFT
A sharp series of knocks rattles the front door.
I glance back at the screen. “Did you do that?”
Nicole_luvs_NSYNC: no
Nicole_luvs_NSYNC: I would rather vomit than let you see me again
I push out of my chair. “Go check who it is for me.”
Nicole_luvs_NSYNC: IM NOT YOUR FUCKING MAID
I laugh and head down the hallway.
When I pull the front door open, a woman is standing on the porch. She looks to be in her fifties, with gray hair and blue eyes that look tired but sharp. She’s dressed in sensible clothes, muted colors, comfortable walking shoes. There’s a quality to her face that makes me think she’s lived through things she doesn’t talk about.
“Hi,” she says. “You’re the new tenant?”
“Yeah.” I lean against the doorframe. “Austin Cook.”
“Debbie Miller.”
The last name clicks immediately. This is Nicole’s older sister.
What is she doing here?