Zombie Mode

Maya walked through the hallway feeling like a zombie—AP Euro test, three hours sleep, and somehow her eyeliner had smudged into something resembling raccoon eyes. She caught her reflection in the locker bank and winced.

"You look... artistic," Liam said, appearing behind her reflection. He was the kind of guy who somehow made flannel look intentional.

"Artistic," Maya repeated. "That's definitely the word."

"My mom's doing this detox thing. Spinach smoothies for breakfast." He made a face. "Want one? I have extra."

Maya stared at him. Was this happening? Liam-the-flannel-guy was offering her a green sludge beverage?

"Sure?"

They sat on the bleachers during third period prep, sharing the spinach monstrosity that actually tasted like grass and misguided optimism. Maya's notification pinged—her post had finally broken 100 likes. The iphone screen glowed with validation, tiny hearts stacking up like some kind of emotional currency she'd been collecting since seventh grade.

"You're always on that thing," Liam said, not mean. Just... observing.

"It's for my aesthetic," she deflected, though the words felt hollow suddenly. "Building my brand."

"Your brand?" He raised an eyebrow. "Maya, you literally fell asleep in chem yesterday. Your brand is exhausted excellence."

She laughed—actually laughed, head tilted back, not the curated giggle she used for posts. And something shifted. The zombie fog lifted.

"You know what," she said, thumb hovering over her screen. "I think I'm gonna go zombie mode for a while. No posts, no aesthetic, just... whatever this is." She gestured at the spinach smoothie, the mediocre morning, the surprisingly real conversation.

Liam smiled. "Revolutionary."

Maya turned off her phone. The screen went dark, and for the first time in months, she felt entirely awake.