Page 19 of Glitter Rose
“What do you think, Freddie? Is he faking or actually resting?”
Freddie’s leaves rustle noncommittally.
“Yeah, I don’t know either.”
I finish with the strawberries and move to the tomatoes, which are showing signs of blight on their lower leaves. The repetitive motions of gardening usually calm me, but today I’m jittery, hyperaware of the man-shaped presence beyond the glass.
Every day, talking to plants, and now there’s someone who might actually answer back. The thought terrifies me more than it should.
I step outside to the open portion of the balcony, binoculars hanging heavy around my neck.
The midday sun beats down on the concrete city below, highlighting every abandoned car and shambling corpse in stark relief. I count seven zombies on my street, two more than yesterday. They cluster near the fresh corpse Knox created before his fall.
I scan the horizon, checking the usual landmarks. Thehospital’s broken windows reflect sunlight like fractured diamonds. The shopping mall’s parking lot remains a graveyard of rusting cars.
Nothing new. Nothing changing.
Except everything has changed, because when I lower the binoculars and turn around, Knox is watching me through the glass, before he looks back down at his book. I return inside and leave the binoculars in their spot on the windowsill.
“See anything interesting?” he asks without looking up.
“Two more zombies than yesterday. Otherwise, same apocalyptic hellscape theater as always.”
“Comforting.”
I move to the kitchen, opening cabinets, taking inventory. Four cans of tuna, three of peaches, and two of corn. Six protein bars. Half a bag of rice. One package of pasta—my last. I run my thumb over the cellophane, feeling the hard ridges of penne inside.
Behind me, pages turn as Knox reads. The sound is oddly domestic, like we’ve been coexisting for years instead of hours.
“Any more of these?” He holds up a Batman comic.
I cross to the bookshelf, fingers trailing along spines. “It should be… here.” I pull it out, the glossy cover showing the Caped Crusader silhouetted against Gotham’s skyline.
“Thanks,” he says as I hand it to him.
I spin on my heel, retreating to the kitchen. “Hope you like pasta.”
“I eat anything.”
“Soldier survival skill?”
“Something like that.”
I retrieve the pasta package and set it beside the jar of sun-dried tomatoes. Last package. After this, it’s rice and more rice until I go shopping again. I touch the cellophane. It’s gonna be fine.
“You okay over there?” Knox calls from thecouch.
“All good.” I set a pot of water on the portable stove. “Just planning dinner.”
The sun slants lower through the windows, painting the penthouse in gold and amber. Knox reads, occasionally glancing up to track my movements. I pretend not to notice, but every cell in my body is attuned to his presence, like he’s generating his own gravitational field.
“What do you think, Poti?” I whisper to the pot as water begins to heat. “Should I go out tomorrow or wait to get more pasta?”
The water bubbles, dancing around the edges of the pot in angry little pops.
“Leaving him here alone means he could steal everything. Or he could just… leave.” The last word comes out softer than intended.
The water bubbles, steam rising in question marks.
