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Pre-Chapter 1
There’s a jigsaw puzzle. There’s a jigsaw puzzle and the pieces nearby don’t fit. Will it remain forever unsolved? Will the holes in its fabric remain there, slightly tattered and left so raw, unique, that it forces the puzzle – unsolved as it is – to have a meaning? Or will its empty spaces void its meaning entirely? Whichever the case, it is left there, on a shoddy wooden coffee table in the middle of a white room.
There is something else in the room. There is something else in the room and it is a boy. There is something else in the room and it is a boy who does not have the pieces of his life arranged correctly. Will he remain unsolved, as well? Will the gaps in his life remain there, uneven and jagged as it were, to collapse the foundation of his existence? Or will they force his hand – make him understand that the rips in his life are there for a reason? Whichever the case, he is there, on a lime green couch, in front of a shoddy wooden coffee table in a white room.
There’s a jigsaw puzzle. There’s a jigsaw puzzle and the pieces nearby don’t fit.
Chapter 1
“Hello?”
“Jake?”
“Yeah. Megan?”
“Yeah. Did you just get out of bed? How are you?”
“I’m fine. And no, I’ve been awake since six. And you? How’s Barnard treating you?”
“Oh, you know. The dining hall doesn’t have food for vegans, so I always have to go off-campus. Haha. Good times, huh?”
“Hah, yes, very good times, indeed.”
“So…you have to tell me: how’s Harvard? Is it what you thought it was going to be?”
“You know how I roll: I like everyone until they open their mouths. The same applies here.”
“Overrated?”
“Oh yeah.”
“Barnard’s the same way. For the first week, I half-way expected to see you in my doorway.”
“For the first week I – Megan? What’s that?”
“It’s my roommate, she just got up. Drinking party. You know how it goes.”
“Oh yeah. She sounds like she’s trying to imitate a dying cow?”
“She’s singing.”
“Really?”
“Truly.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Yeah.” A door closes in the background. “She’s in the choir.”
“No shit?”
“Yup, it’s true.”
“I wouldn’t doubt you.”
“You did.”
“I did?”
“You said, ‘no shit?’.”
“Oh, well…haha, I guess I did.”
“A semester and 800 miles away and we can still talk like we’ve seen each other every day. Is there something wrong with that?”
“No, there’s something wring with people who can’t do that.”
“Hah.”
“Yeah, so…”
“Hey, Jake? Yeah, I’ve gotta go. My roommate just vomited all over the place.”
“All right, have fun. Lay-tor.”
“Mhm. Bye kid.”
Jake hung the phone up and looked out his window. The sun glared down from its perch.
“Goddammit.”
“Hello?”
The phone rang in Jake's room. His hand felt for the phone and on the third ring he picked it up. "Hello?" he said groggily.
It was ten in the morning and he still wasn’t dressed. Class was in an hour. That is, SSCC: some shitty calculus course. The lawn would surely be peppered with arrogant pinheads who couldn’t wrap their mind around an integral if they had to, but could speak the language like they knew it inside and out. Of course, Jake thought, that’s the real gem of higher education: all self-display and no self. There’s a lot less to it than meets the eye.
On his way out that morning, he duly noted the unfinished puzzle.
Post-Chapter 1
Loneliness can only be known
when you have truly fallen, grappling
for your last breath,
only to have it taken away (again)
by the one you love.
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