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moved past me and walked into the dining area with the
open kitchen to the right. There was a living room off to the left,
open as well, then a glass door in front of us leading to a porch
and the backyard.
    "This is nice," he said, removing his
crossbow and quiver from his back and tucking them into a corner of
the living room. "Too bad that huge TV doesn't work."
    I laughed. "It does work, actually,
but I don't use it. There's nothing ever on."
    "Huh?" he asked.
    "Look. Come here." Pointing the way
through the rear glass door, I showed him the generator hidden near
the back side of the house. "I fill it with gas from a nearby gas
station. It's been running fine since I came. I try not to use it
often, though, because I don't know how long it'll last. I love it,
though. It's not much, but..."
    "What?" he asked. "It's alright. You
can tell me if you want. I won't think it's strange."
    I laughed because that was exactly
what I'd been thinking. Strange, Sadie. Why are you telling this
man you've just met about all the terrible things that are wrong
with you? I was kind of surprised he hadn't run away screaming
yet.
    "I turn it on for a few minutes every
couple of days to use the microwave," I whispered. "I heat up a can
of beans or soup or whatever I can find while I'm out and about--"
Oh, yes, out and about. Like I was just heading to the store to do
some weekly shopping. "It really helps. I know it's dumb, but when
I eat hot food, I feel normal for a little while. I don't know how
long, but it helps."
    I felt so emotional and stunted, like
I was some shriveled plant begging a gardener to water me. Except I
wasn't a nice plant like a rose bush, nor a useful plant like a
tomato vine. I wasn't even common grass. I was some hideous weed
that everyone wanted to get rid of, to toss out, except if you
didn't do it properly I'd just grow back and piss you off even
more. I didn't want to do that, I didn't want to annoy anyone and
continue growing where I didn't belong, but I didn't have any other
choice, either.
    "It's probably been a long day for
you, huh?" Evan asked. "You're probably tired."
    This was it. He was going to pluck me
up and toss me out, make some excuse for me to go to bed and then
leave me alone.
    "I'm not too tired," I said, praying I
didn't sound desperate. I knew I did, but I didn't want
to.
    "Are you hungry?" he asked.
    I wished I was. "I ate
yesterday."
    "Ah. Right."
    "My bedroom's over here," I said.
"I'll probably lay down for a little while. I'm sure I'll feel
better when I get up."
    A lie, of course. He probably knew
that, but I offered him the escape anyways. There wasn't anything
wrong with leaving while I slept, since that's what most people
did. An easy out, a way for him to go, and that was that. I
stumbled towards the bedroom, feeling the remnants of his
touch--his heat--fading away from me.
    He didn't follow me like I knew he
wouldn't. Down the hallway off to the side of the living room, past
the stairs to the second floor, then into the master bedroom. I
stepped inside and closed the door behind me. Shambling towards the
bed, only a few feet more, I fell onto it. My face hit the
blanket-covered mattress and I bounced up and down once before
settling into place.
    I closed my eyes. Maybe I should sleep
like this? Why not? Who cared? When I woke up, I'd be dizzy and
disoriented, unsure what was going on, so it hardly mattered.
Sometimes it took me an hour to push away the haze and realize
somewhat about where I was and what had happened, though other
times it came faster.
    The bedroom door opened, then clicked
shut, and footsteps approached me while I stared at the
blankets.
    "What," I said, voice muffled by
fleece.
    "I'm kind of tired, myself," Evan
said. "I didn't want to intrude in the rest of the house, so I
thought I'd come in here. If you don't mind lending me a pillow,
maybe I could sleep on your floor? A blanket would be nice, but I
don't need one."
    I spun around fast, laying on my back,
and