It was two in the afternoon and she was still in pajamas. The book was open on her knee but she hadn't turned the page in twenty minutes. She wasn't sad exactly, she just wasn't anything. The idea of showering felt theoretical. The idea of replying to any of the texts felt enormous. She got up to get water and on her way back lay on the couch instead. Outside the window a bird did bird things. She watched it without interest. Eventually the light changed and she realized it was evening and she hadn't moved and the day had happened to somebody else.
