Living alone in Seattle
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Eric was a little surprised to find that he had no trouble living by himself. He’d always been used to having roommates, and the idea of being on his own hadn’t really occurred to him until after he moved out here.
But now it seemed like an easy thing: just go home at night when you’re done with work or school; come back whenever you want during the day if there’s something important going on (like your parent’s anniversary party); leave for as long as you need to without worrying about anyone else needing anything from you.
It wasn’t exactly what he wanted—he missed sharing space with someone who knew how much time he spent working, and didn’t mind waiting around while Eric went off somewhere to do whatever it is that people did outside their homes these days—but it felt good enough not to complain too loudly.
He also found that he liked cooking more than he thought he would. There were plenty of things he could make well enough, but nothing special. So instead he made sure to cook every meal from scratch so they wouldn’t be boring.
And since he couldn’t afford any fancy ingredients, most meals involved lots of vegetables and some kind of meat. The only problem was that eating healthy meant spending money on food rather than beer. That might have bothered him less if he weren’t still paying rent for his old apartment, which left very little room in his budget for groceries. At least he got free coffee at work…
The first few weeks passed quickly, though slowly, because Eric kept getting distracted by other things. First came the job interviews, then the moving process itself. Then there was unpacking all his stuff into boxes and putting them away again once everything fit where he needed it to go.
Finally, there was finding new places to hang up pictures and shelves and such, making sure that each item had its proper place before he put it down. All this took longer than expected, even with help from friends, and he ended up staying over at one friend’s house almost every weekend.
By the end of September, he finally started sleeping in his own bed again, and he began looking forward to coming home every evening.
But then October rolled around, bringing with it another round of interviews. This time Eric decided to take a different approach: he looked for jobs closer to home. In theory, that should mean fewer hours per week, allowing him to spend more time doing things he enjoyed.
Unfortunately, the reality turned out quite differently. Most companies required applicants to submit resumes online, and those applications often asked questions designed specifically to weed out candidates based on factors unrelated to qualifications.
For example, “Do you prefer working nights?” or “How many years of experience do you have writing code? Do you consider yourself an expert programmer?” These kinds of questions were intended to screen out older programmers who preferred daytime shifts, younger ones who considered themselves experts already, and everyone else who simply didn’t know how to answer correctly.
Even worse, employers sometimes sent follow-up emails asking additional questions, usually along similar lines. If you answered incorrectly, you probably wouldn’t get hired anyway, but answering right could earn you extra points toward employment.
So Eric applied to several positions within driving distance, hoping to avoid the hassle of commuting. He figured that if he failed to land a job close to home, he’d move farther away. But none of the offers he received included relocation packages, and he soon realized that he was stuck between two bad options.
Either he accepted a position far from home, or he stayed unemployed indefinitely. Neither option sounded appealing, especially since unemployment checks barely covered his expenses.
And so he continued applying to local jobs, knowing full well that he might never hear back from any of them. After all, he wasn’t exactly qualified for any of them. His resume listed programming skills that were either outdated or nonexistent, and he lacked the necessary degrees and certifications.
Yet he persisted, sending out dozens of applications every month, confident that eventually, someone would see past his shortcomings. As long as he remained optimistic, he told himself, he could keep trying forever.
Then one morning in early November, Eric woke up feeling unusually cheerful. Maybe it was because he had slept through the entire night without waking up once. Or maybe it was the fact that he had gotten laid off from yet another company, leaving him with no income whatsoever.
Whatever the reason, he felt like celebrating. So he called a couple of friends, invited them over, and cooked dinner. They ate together, drank wine, and talked about life and love and everything else under the sun. When they finished eating, they cleaned up the kitchen and sat around talking some more.
Eventually, they grew tired and headed upstairs to sleep. Eric fell asleep easily enough, but he dreamed of monsters chasing him across a dark forest floor.
When he awoke later that afternoon, Eric discovered that he had overslept. It was nearly four o’clock, and he hadn’t eaten anything since breakfast. Since he lived alone, he rarely went grocery shopping, so he had nothing prepared for lunch except whatever was in his refrigerator.
Fortunately, he did have some leftover pasta sauce in the fridge, which he heated up while he waited for his guests to arrive. Once everyone arrived, he served the spaghetti and garlic bread, followed by dessert. Everyone seemed happy with their meal, and nobody complained when Eric offered seconds.
Afterward, they played board games until late into the night. The next day, Eric drove his friends home and returned to his apartment. He showered, changed clothes, and spent the rest of the day relaxing. That evening, he watched television and read a book.
And the following evening, he repeated the same routine. Week after week, Eric found himself living the exact same lifestyle, spending most evenings watching TV and reading books. Occasionally he ventured outside to meet friends for drinks, but otherwise, he avoided socializing altogether.
One Saturday morning, Eric got dressed and left the house. He walked down the street to a nearby park where he met a friend for coffee. Then he wandered aimlessly through town, stopping at various shops and restaurants along the way.
By midafternoon, he still hadn’t made plans to return home. Instead, he kept walking, enjoying the sights and sounds of the city. Finally, he stopped in front of a bookstore and browsed the shelves. He picked up a few titles, paid for them, and carried them to the cashier’s counter.
There he noticed a small display featuring a variety of magazines. One magazine caught his eye immediately: Computer Gaming World. On its cover was a large picture of a man wearing sunglasses and holding a sword. Beneath the photo were the words “The Best Games Ever!”
Eric bought the issue, took it home, and flipped through the pages. Several articles piqued his interest, including one entitled “Top Ten Video Game Heroes.” He scanned the list quickly, noting that the hero featured on the cover ranked number three. Curious, he opened the article and began reading.
“In this age of video game heroes,” wrote the author, “it is hard to find anyone who can stand toe-to-toe against our favorite characters. Some are too powerful; others lack depth. Still other games feature such poor writing that we wonder why these games even exist.
However, there exists an elite group of warriors whose exploits rival those of any fictional character ever created. These ten men and women possess qualities that make us cheer for them, cry for them, and fight alongside them. In short, they’re the best of the bunch! Here then, in alphabetical order, are the top ten video game heroes…”
As Eric read, he became increasingly excited. This was exactly what he needed. A chance to prove himself worthy of playing the role of Kratos in God of War III. All he had to do was write a letter explaining how much he wanted the part, and send it to Sony Interactive Entertainment.
If they liked his idea, he’d get hired instantly—and if not, he wouldn’t be disappointed. After all, he could always try again next year or the year after that. But now wasn’t the time to think about failure. Now was the time to focus on success.
So Eric sat down at his computer and started typing. His fingers flew across the keyboard as he poured out his heart and soul. He explained that he loved the original God of War series and that he would love to play the lead in the third installment.
He told them that he knew he didn’t look like the typical action star, but he believed he possessed the necessary skills to bring the character to life. Most importantly, however, he stressed that he understood the importance of making sure the player felt connected to the protagonist.
Without a strong connection between the gamer and the main character, the entire experience becomes meaningless.
He finished the letter just before midnight, printed several copies, and mailed each copy separately to different addresses around the world. As soon as he hit the Send button, he fell asleep. When he woke up the next morning, he checked his email account.
To his surprise, he received a reply from Sony Interactive Entertainment within minutes. They thanked him for taking the time to submit his ideas and asked whether he might consider attending a casting call for the new game.
Eric replied enthusiastically, assuring the company that he would attend the audition. He also sent another message to the director of the film adaptation, asking her to pass along his information. He figured she probably already had enough people vying for the role, but he couldn’t help hoping that maybe someone else would drop out.
Several weeks passed without a word from either party. Eric continued working at his job while waiting impatiently by the phone every day. At last, he heard back from Sony. An agent called to inform him that he had been selected for the final round of auditions. She said he should expect to hear more details shortly.
A month later, Eric attended a meeting with the producer and some members of the development team. He performed well during the interview process, and afterward, the producers decided to fly him to California so he could meet with the studio head. The trip went smoothly until he arrived at the hotel room. That’s when things turned ugly.
After checking into his room, Eric headed straight to the bathroom. While relieving himself, he glanced over at the mirror and saw something strange. It looked like a dark shadow hovering above his shoulder. He froze, unsure of what to do. Should he turn around? Or keep going? What if it was a ghost? Would ghosts have to go potty, too?
Suddenly, the figure disappeared. Eric breathed a sigh of relief, relieved that whatever it was hadn’t followed him inside. Then he noticed the toilet seat was wet. There were drops of water dripping onto the floor. And where did they come from? Did somebody leave the faucet running?
No…the sink was dry. So who left the water on? Was it a prank played by the cleaning staff? Maybe they thought it was funny to mess with the guests. Perhaps they got bored and decided to take their frustrations out on the unsuspecting visitors.
But no one was laughing. Not anymore.
The door opened behind Eric, and he spun around quickly. Before he could say anything, the man stepped forward and grabbed him by the throat. Eric tried to scream, but nothing came out. Instead, he watched helplessly as the stranger lifted him off the ground. He held Eric suspended in midair, staring directly into his eyes.
Then the man dropped Eric to the floor. He landed hard, and pain shot through his body. For a moment, he lay motionless, unable to move. Finally, he rolled over and crawled toward the window. With trembling hands, he reached up and pulled open the blinds. Outside, he could see the ocean. He stared at the waves crashing against the shoreline. Slowly, he stood up and walked outside.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “Please forgive me.”
***
It took years for Eric to recover from the traumatic events that occurred during his stay in Hollywood. In fact, he never fully recovered. Whenever he closed his eyes, he remembered the face of the man who attacked him. He wondered how many other victims suffered similar ordeals. How many others had fallen prey to this monster?
One night, after returning home from work, he found an envelope sitting on his kitchen table. Inside, there was a note written by the same person who’d assaulted him. The writer apologized for everything that happened, explaining that he only wanted to protect Eric from harm. But instead, he ended up hurting him even worse than anyone ever had.
As far as Eric knew, the attacker was still alive. After all, he didn’t know any better. All he cared about was getting revenge. If he learned that the man was dead, then he wouldn’t be able to exact justice upon him. He needed closure. He needed to make sure that the man paid for what he did.
So he waited patiently, watching and listening carefully for clues. Every now and again, he caught glimpses of movement out of the corner of his eye. Sometimes he heard voices coming from nearby rooms. Other times, he felt cold fingers brush across his skin. He always reacted immediately, grabbing hold of whoever or whatever it was before they could escape.
And each time, he discovered the truth: the man wasn’t alone. His accomplice remained hidden somewhere within the house. They worked together to torment Eric whenever possible. Their goal seemed clear—they intended to drive him insane.
Over the next few months, Eric grew increasingly paranoid. He started sleeping with a knife under his pillow. He kept his bedroom light on at all hours of the day. When he woke up in the middle of the night, he checked the windows to ensure they were locked tight. He couldn’t help wondering whether someone else might try to break in.
He began keeping a journal. Each entry detailed the latest incident, along with a description of the perpetrator. Over time, he wrote down dozens of entries. Some of them contained information that helped him identify the culprit. Others simply served as proof that he was being tormented.
Eric spent most of his days holed up in his apartment, trying desperately to avoid contact with people. He rarely ventured outdoors unless absolutely necessary. Even when he went grocery shopping, he made certain to park away from the store entrance. Otherwise, he would’ve been forced to walk past the front doors. That way, he could remain anonymous while making his purchases.
Whenever he returned home, he searched the entire building to find the source of the noise. He listened closely for footsteps overhead, hoping to catch a glimpse of the intruder. At first, he assumed it was just another guest playing a cruel joke. But eventually, he realized that the noises weren’t caused by a human hand. It sounded like something much larger. Something more powerful.
After several weeks passed without incident, Eric finally stopped looking for answers. He figured the problem had resolved itself. Or maybe the two men responsible for his suffering had moved on to new targets. Either way, he refused to let himself get distracted. He continued writing his diary, determined to uncover every last detail.
A year later, Eric’s paranoia became reality. One morning, he awoke to discover that his apartment had been ransacked. Everything inside had been tossed aside, including his bed sheets. There was also blood splattered throughout the room. A trail of footprints led from the bathroom to the closet. And above the doorway, there was a large hole where the doorknob used to be.
When he entered the living area, he saw that the television set had been smashed. Several drawers had been ripped apart, spilling their contents onto the carpet. Most of the furniture had been overturned, leaving the place completely disheveled.
The worst part came when he opened the refrigerator door. On top of the food, he spotted a pair of bloody fingerprints. Someone had broken into his home and left behind evidence of their crime. Whoever committed the act must have known exactly what they were doing. They probably planned to leave no trace of themselves behind.
But Eric wasn’t going to give up so easily. He examined the fridge one final time, searching for anything that might provide clues regarding the identity of the intruders. Then he grabbed a flashlight off the countertop and headed upstairs to search for additional signs of disturbance.
In the master bedroom, he noticed that the window was open wide. As soon as he stepped outside, he took notice of the fresh layer of snow covering the ground. The temperature had dropped significantly over the course of the previous week. Now, the weather was turning colder than usual.
It occurred to him that this might not have been the work of a single individual. Maybe multiple assailants broke into his home during the early hours of the morning. Perhaps they were planning to return once the sun rose higher in the sky. Whatever the case may be, he decided to take extra precautions. For starters, he changed his locks. Next, he installed an alarm system. Finally, he bought a gun.
By the end of the day, Eric had taken care of everything. He even hired a private investigator to follow up on some leads. Unfortunately, nothing turned up. No matter how hard he tried, he never managed to track down the perpetrators. Not until years later…
***
“I’m sorry,” said the woman standing beside me. “You’re right about my name.”
She wore her long hair tied back in a ponytail. Her face looked familiar, but I couldn’t quite remember who she was. She stood out among the crowd because of the bright red scarf wrapped around her neck.
We’d met earlier today, shortly after arriving at the airport. We exchanged pleasantries before boarding our flight. Afterward, we sat side-by-side on the plane, talking nonstop. By the time the pilot announced that we were ready to land, neither of us knew where to begin. So instead, we kept chatting.
As luck would have it, we ended up sitting next to each other again. This time, however, we didn’t speak a word. Instead, we stared straight ahead, pretending to read magazines or newspapers. Eventually, the captain informed everyone aboard that we were approaching our destination. Moments later, the wheels touched down on the solid ground.
Once the passengers disembarked, the woman walked toward the exit. Before stepping through the sliding glass doors, she paused for a moment. Then, she glanced over her shoulder and smiled.
“Thank you for being such a good listener,” she said.
Then she disappeared into the terminal.
For the rest of the afternoon, I wandered aimlessly across the city streets. My mind remained focused on the conversation with the stranger. In fact, I still remembered almost every detail. From the color of her eyes to the shape of her lips, all those details seemed crystal clear in my memory. Yet despite knowing exactly who she was, I hadn’t seen her since that fateful encounter. Until now.
At first, I thought she was someone else entirely. But then, something told me otherwise. It was like a voice deep within my soul was trying to tell me that this person was different. That she belonged here.
Eventually, I found myself standing in front of a small café. When I approached the entrance, the hostess greeted me by name.
“Welcome back, Mr. Smith!”
Her smile made me feel warm inside. Like I could trust her implicitly. Which is why I felt comfortable enough to share my secret.
“Do you know anyone named Jessica?”
“Yes! Do you mean the girl who works here? Of course, I do. Why are you asking?”
“Well…”
Before I could explain further, another customer entered the establishment. Once he finished placing his order, he started walking toward the cashier. At that point, I realized it was too late to ask any more questions. All I wanted was for them to keep quiet. To let me enjoy my meal without interruption.
The End