The Post

There is not a lot of things that Amane could say she has experienced. In her twenty-five years of living, she had found that her life was more sheltered and quiet than most normal people. Having been raised by immigrants who had moved from Japan to America, she found out the hard way of what living the “dream” meant.

It meant no one being home to care for her. It meant her parents barely giving her a second thought in exchange for work.

Money, money, money. It was always about money to make sure they were never poor again.

While she did appreciate the work her parents put into having her savings account filled with many zeros, she found it was honestly useless.

She didn’t understand or care for things other kids cared for. She couldn’t chase the high of spending money like many other adults around her, who flaunted their wealth as a spectacle. She just couldn’t begin to understand what it all meant.

Everything had seemed quite meaningless. Where she once told her parents she would graduate from a prestigious university, she now had holed herself up in the small apartment for months on end. There was no need to go outside. Just as there was no need to continue on.

Her black blanket was thrown over her head as she scrolled mindlessly through her social media. Food. Vacation. Food. Clothes. Song. Artist. Food. Smile. Food. Song. Band.

She sighed as she realized another day had passed.

She was too afraid of looking for a job. Hell, she was too afraid to leave her house.

There was just no point in anything anymore... no point in trying. Hard work had killed her parents. Money and far fetched dreams had buried them in the ground.

And it was isolation that prevented her from crying that day. It was fear that kept her from trying to interact, to connect and one day lose that connection. She would not be hurt. Simply because there was no need to be hurt by trivial matters. All that mattered was that she was alive.

The money that had been saved from her parents’ will however, begged to differ. It was nearly run out after so many years, and she knew the end was coming eventually.

She would have to take a risk.

She would to have to venture in that confusing world again. Otherwise there was no more life to live.

She turned to her side and clutched a plushie of a cat she had gotten so many years ago as a gift from her dad. She couldn’t bear the thought of having to leave her home.

Amane clenched her eyes shut, pretending all of it would fade away before she opened them and grabbed her phone.

Roommate wanted. Cost is split evenly in half. Apartment is one room and has a kitchen. If interested, contact (***)***-****.

She hesitated before she pressed send. With a click of a button, her life would not be hers anymore. It would have to include someone else.

Would they be peaceful? Or would they be more loud? Would they snore a lot or would they be a picky eater?

Questions. So many questions that she couldn’t answer.

She hated questions.

Her thumb hovered. She was giving up like a coward again, running away from the world.

It was always going to be like this, huh?

She closed her eyes and her thumb pressed down on her screen. There. It was done. And now she was to wait for a candidate to accept her deal and ask for more information.

She hated having to wait like this.

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