At 5:32 pm, on a cloudless Tuesday afternoon, James didn’t think his day could get any worse. He was wrong.

  But let’s back up a few minutes first.

  The afternoon sun shone through the door to Apartment 301, interrupted by the silhouette of James’ best friend, Olivia J. Bridges. His currently very angry best friend who was gripping his doorway like it owed her money (it didn’t, in case you were wondering).

  She had dark auburn hair that perfectly framed a scowling face and wore a black leather jacket with aggressively spiked shoulders. Despite being a full head shorter than James, she still managed to look down at him.

  “What do you mean, ‘no?’” she asked.

  “I mean ‘no,’ Liv, as in ‘finals are a couple weeks out and we have a project to turn in!’” James leaned against the wall and tried glare at her. It didn’t work.

  Liv pushed past him into his apartment, snagged a bottle of water from the fridge in his kitchenette and flopped onto his couch. She cracked it open and took a sip before using it to gesture at him. “Look dude, this is the fifth time you’ve canceled on me,” she said. “Do you just not want to hang out or…?”

  James raised an eyebrow as he closed the door and turned around. “Okay,” he scoffed, “first of all, I did not cancel. You showed up at my door saying, and i quote—”

  “You know what I mean!” she interjected.

  “No, I don’t,” he said, “and if we want to talk about canceling, then what about last week when you were ‘sick’ right before we met up to work on our project. And the week before that. And the week before that!” James stalked to his kitchenette to start preparing some tea. He was going to need it.

  “I was sick!”

  “And I suppose you’ll be sick tomorrow too?” James said. He flicked the stove on and squatted to look for his kettle in the cabinet. Making tea was usually calming for him.

  “That’s not fair.”

  “You’re right Liv, it’s not fair,” he said. For a moment, the only sound that could be heard was water pouring into the kettle. James closed the kettle and began flipping through his tea drawer.

  “I don’t care about the project Liv. With our grades we could bomb our final and still pass with room to spare.”

  “Then why are you so worked up about this—“

  “Because the Liv I know doesn't just pass classes. The Liv I know aces them so hard that they had to invent another letter before A to put on her work.” A green tea would be perfect. He needed the caffeine. “The Liv I knew didn’t worry me like this.” The last line came out quieter than he meant to but he was sure she heard it. She didn’t miss much.

  James slowly turned around to look Olivia in the eye. He didn’t know what he was expecting but he shouldn’t have been surprised by the daggers she was glaring at him. The Liv he knew was also very defensive.

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  “And who are you to worry about me, James?” She stood up and walked over to him.

  “I-”

  “Who?” They were almost nose to nose. She must have been on her tippy toes.

  “I….” He couldn’t say it. “…I’m just worried about you Liv. I don’t know what happened to you—Something must have—but life’s too short to throw it away after you experience a little pain.”

  Olivia’s brow furrowed. He knew that meant she agreed with him, at least on some level. He also knew it pissed her off.

  The stare continued for what felt like eternity. It must have only been a second though. If it had been any longer then things would’ve been awkward. James couldn’t handle awkward. His chest would tighten and his mouth would dry up and his heart would start beating out of his chest. Kind of like right now.

  Olivia’s eyes searched his for a moment more. She must not have found what she was looking for because she turned away, walked out, and slammed the door behind her. She left her water bottle behind.

  The kettle whistled behind him. The familiar sound usually calmed him. Usually. He’d said the wrong thing. Again. It would’ve been better if he hadn’t said a word at all.

  He got out his favorite yellow mug. Olivia had gotten it for him. He put it back. He shouldn’t have said “a little pain.” He didn’t know what was going on in her life! Because she wouldn’t tell him, a little voice said. But why would she tell him? Because they’d been best friends for the last two years? Because he cared about her? Because…

  She was right. He didn’t have any right to her secrets or private life. He shouldn’t have acted like he did. Why would she tell him? Ugh.

  James sighed. Habitually, he reached for one of the cough drops he kept on the counter. If tea couldn’t calm him down, one of these usually would. It was a stupid habit as Olivia just loved to remind him. He unwrapped it. Used to love, by now probably. She always said that he’d choke one of these days and she was going to point and laugh when it happened. He tossed it back and caught it in his mouth.

  And promptly began to choke.

  James was stunned for a moment. At first in disbelief. Olivia was right. Then in delirium. Olivia is going to be so sad that she missed her chance to point and laugh. Then in panic. Holy shit, I’m choking!

  James pounded his chest. He was still choking. He knew there was a heimlich maneuver you could do on yourself but he didn’t know it. He slammed his back into the wall. Again. Again. He was still choking.The edges of his vision were starting to go dark.

  The tea! His hands were shaking as he scrambled at the cabinets. He finally grabbed his mug and tried to bring it to the kettle. He dropped it and it shattered on the floor. Shit.

  James loved that mug. Olivia had picked out that mug for him. He’d never told her it was his favorite mug. She’d think he didn’t didn’t care. He had to tell her he was sorry. He had to.

  There was only one thing left to do. James stumbled towards the kettle. The remains of the mug tore at the soles of his feet. James didn’t trust himself to hold it by the handle anymore. He gripped the kettle with both hands. The pain of gripping a hot kettle seared into his palms.

  He picked the kettle up and tipped it back. The lid hit his face, half a second before the scalding water followed. The water burned down his throat and down the sides of his face and down his chin

  James put the kettle down and began pounding his chest again. His hands felt raw. He kept beating at his chest and trying to cough. His lungs burned. His coughing turned to spluttering turned to splat! He spat the cough drop out.

  James couldn’t help falling to his hands and knees, just heaving in air. Shards of the mug cut at his already raw hands but he didn’t care. Air and that sweet, sweet oxygen had never tasted so good. James was feeling positively euphoric.

  Then the world froze. Everything had frozen. The deep gulps of air he wasn’t taking, the spittle that wasn’t dripping from his lips, and even his heart that wasn’t beating. James had the suspicion that if he were to look at a sunbeam under a microscope or something, even the photons would be frozen. Something was wrong.

  Deeply, deeply wrong.

  That was the last thought James had before the world lurched on an incomprehensible axis and the tiled floor of the kitchenette beneath his hands was replaced with soft, rich loam.