Dead Lines

Maya hadn't left her apartment in three weeks. The cable box hummed its endless blue light into the bedroom, where she lay curled like a comma, watching infomercials bleed into talk shows into news cycles into nothing. She was twenty-eight and felt like a zombie—dead inside but somehow still moving, still breathing, still paying the cable bill on autopilot.

Then came the knock that wouldn't stop.

"Maya, I know you're in there. Your mail is piling up."

Lena. Her best friend from college, the one who'd stopped calling when Maya stopped picking up. Maya dragged herself to the door, unlocked it without looking through the peephole.

Lena's face fell. "Jesus. You look like death."

"Thanks."

"No, really. You look like those zombie extras from your first production assistant job. The ones who'd been in makeup for six hours."

Maya stepped back, letting Lena into the apartment that smelled like stale coffee and stagnation. They sat on the couch where Maya had spent most of the past month. On the floor, Lena's cat Carrier—named for the anxiety diagnosis—began investigating the tangle of cables behind the TV.

"You haven't been answering my texts," Lena said. "I was worried."

"I've been busy."

"With what? The cable subscription?" Lena gestured at the glowing screen. "Maya, this isn't living."

Carrier chose that moment to sink her teeth into the coaxial cable. A sharp *crunch*, then the screen went black. The apartment fell silent for the first time in weeks.

Maya stared at the dark glass. Something in her chest cracked open.

"I couldn't get out of bed," she whispered. "After the breakup, I just... I couldn't."

Lena's hand found hers. "So you became a zombie instead."

"Cheaper than therapy."

"More expensive than friends." Lena squeezed her fingers. "Stay with me. For a few days. We'll get you back."

Carrier purred loudly, rubbing against Maya's leg. For the first time in a month, Maya felt something like warmth spread through her chest. The dead cable lay behind the TV like a severed lifeline.

"Okay," she said.

Outside, the city hummed with lives being lived. Maya stood up, her legs steady for the first time in weeks.