Cable Guy Crisis

The WiFi died at 7:43 PM. Exactly seventeen minutes before I was supposed to finally DM Sarah.

I stared at my phone like it had personally betrayed me. No signal. No bars. Just that spinning circle of doom. Dad was working late, which meant the cable guy wasn't coming until tomorrow, which meant I was trapped in my room with approximately zero ways to check if Sarah had posted anything new on her story. I'd been basically cyber-stalking her for three weeks straight—not in a creepy way, okay? Just... thorough research.

Meanwhile, my dog Buster chose that exact moment to start barking at absolutely nothing outside my window. He's this ancient golden retriever who spends 23 hours a day sleeping and the other one hour losing his entire mind over squirrels that may or may not exist.

"Buster, shut UP," I whispered, but he was committed to the bit. Of course this was happening. Of course my life had become this perfect storm of awkward teenage frustration.

See, here's the thing about high school: you're constantly bullshitting your way through everything. Acting like you know what you're doing. Acting like you're not terrified that everyone can see through your vibe. I'd spent the entire year pretending to be chill, pretending to be someone who didn't overthink every single interaction with Sarah, pretending my entire emotional state wasn't riding on whether she laughed at my jokes or just tolerated them.

And now the cable was out and my dog was screaming into the void and I couldn't even spiral in peace because no internet meant no access to my carefully curated coping mechanisms.

I threw a pillow at the wall. Buster finally stopped barking and looked at me with those soft, judgmental eyes like *bro, you good?*

"No, Buster," I told him. "I'm not good. I'm a mess."

He trotted over and rested his giant head on my knee, all warm and fur and unconditional positive regard. And honestly? That hit different.

Maybe the cable going out was the universe telling me to stop trying to spy on Sarah's every move and just... exist. Maybe being authentic was better than whatever performance I'd been putting on all year.

I picked up my book—the actual paper one, dusty and forgotten on my shelf—and started reading. For the first time in months, I wasn't obsessing over who was looking at who, or who was posting what, or whether I was being perceived correctly.

Just me, a book, and a dog who loved me even when I was being dramatic.

The WiFi came back at 9:12 PM. Sarah had posted a picture of her cat. I didn't even need to analyze it for hidden meaning. I just liked it and went to sleep.