Because people wanted to read it.
It had been a few days since she last talked to her boyfriend. She didn't know why, but he had been ignoring her. Not answering her texts, or her calls. He didn't even answer when she went to his house to see what was wrong.
Not that she was worried or anything. She was sure he was fine, just maybe he was in a bad mood and didn't want to drag her down. Its not like that'd be the first time he did that. As long as he had some time to himself, he’d eventually bounce back and start talking to her again. And as an apology, he’d always treat her to some ice cream and a movie.
Even knowing there was nothing to be worried about, she couldn't help but have this nagging feeling that something wasn't quite right. Everything seemed too quiet, too still, as if the world around her had stopped rotating.
Of course, she knew that wasn't the case. If that was true, everyone would probably be dead. However, knowing this didn't make her feel much better.
She had a rather good life. Not great, no, but she was content with it. She had a job, not one that paid an insane amount of money, but she was able to afford to rent a small house within walking distance of her job and her boyfriend. The house was nothing glamorous, but enough to live with.
Her boyfriend was just a few years older than her. He worked with her, actually. That was how they met. They’d only been together a few months, but she could see herself staying with him for the rest of their lives. But then, thinking that was rushing it a bit, so she tried not to dwell on that thought, and focused on the next few days, instead of decades.
She was still young, mid-twenties or so. Still swimming through a world full of student loans and learning how to be an adult. Her parents, who she talked to every few days or so, helped when they could.
Slightly bored without her boyfriend, she began walking back to her house, hoping there was something interesting on the TV. It certainly wasn't how she wanted to spend her day, but it was something at least. As she got closer and closer back to home, the feeling that something was wrong grew stronger and stronger. Everything looked fine, nothing out of the ordinary, so she knew it must have been all in her head. Maybe she was getting sick. Maybe she felt off because her body was telling her to get some rest while she could, before she was up all night coughing and puking.
It wasn't until she got back to her house that she finally realized what was wrong.
Her house, or what remained of it, was just barely standing. It was black, charred and utterly destroyed. There had been a fire, obviously. But when? Why hadn't she known? What happened? The tape around the yard saying “caution” over and over again told her that the fire department already came and went, doing their duty and marking it so no one would get too close.
Terrified, she went to pull out her phone to call her boyfriend, not knowing what else to do, but all that came out of her pocket was the charred remains of her phone, no longer functional in the slightest. Hadn't she just texted him a few hours ago? She was sure she did. It seemed like she did anyways. Or was she just going insane?
Slowly, she realized the phone was the least of her worries. Her arms and legs were black and disfigured. She could see bones in places, and remains of muscle in others. There was barely any skin left from what she could see. Some part of her knew that the rest of her body looked like this too, that it wasn't just her arms and legs.
Somehow, it wasn't a surprise. She’d known that she was in this state, but just didn't want to look down to see it, didn't want to accept it. Oddly enough, there was no pain, but she realized she knew the reason for that too. Dimly, she realized the reason everything felt too still was because her heart was no longer pumping blood inside of her, moving her just slightly. It wasn't the world that was still, it was her.
She wasn't scared, she didn't have a reason to be anymore. She understood what had happened now. She was making dinner, and left it in the oven, forgetting about it until it was too late. What a way to go - death by a forgotten chicken. If it wasn't so awful, she knew her boyfriend would’ve never let her live it down.
It wasn't until she realized she’d never be able to talk to him or her family and friends ever again that she began to cry. Although, once she realized she couldn't do anything about it, she stopped.
Unsure of what else to do, she began walking towards the house. It was where she belonged, wasn't it? Even if her body had been taken away days ago, she knew her soul was supposed to stay here. For how long, she didn't know. But she supposed she should just do what she always did: focus on the next few days.
