My wardrobe, before this, almost exclusively contained things that were something like a cross between silky gowns and fluffy bath robes. They're a bit loose-fitting, not so much "clothes" in the traditional sense, but just something to cover my body with. Actually, maybe that's what "clothes in a traditional sense" means? Either way, the garments themselves give off a traditional vibe, but I'm not sure what tradition. The colors are pretty and pastel, and the patterns they're adorned with are sometimes surprisingly intricate. I think they may have been inspired equally by Hinduist mandalas and maternity dresses from Goodwill. They're all in pastel colors, with emphasis on minty greens and gentle pinks, to fit the general vibe of the whole place. There aren't really any boldly colored fabrics… except for a nostalgic yellow hoodie.

  When I yanked it out, I could fully see what it was: a bright yellow hoodie. On it was a sticky note that read "Sorry, forgot to give this back to you -CHOEY".

  It was a shock to see my old hoodie back. I imagine I felt emotions similar to what an archaeologist feels when discovering a perfectly-intact fossil. It was like my old life was sending me a pristine memo, maybe as a reminder to not forget who I was in the past. It was surprising, yes, but not the most surprising part.

  In the middle pocket was my cell phone.

  Without even the slightest hesitation, I turned on the screen. There was my lock screen background of Leo, just like always. My swipe password still worked, and let me into the home screen. This was really my phone. My gallery was still intact. The apps on it seemed to work, though there wasn't any internet, so most were useless. The time read 6:32 AM, which would have been an unfathomable time to be awake back in my old life. Since there's no day or night here, I just sleep and wake up whenever. Then I saw the battery: 44%.

  Nothing here used electricity. There were no cables, no wires, no plugs, no outlets. If this thing dies on me, it's gone. That's okay, I guess I can ration the remaining life out through the next ten thousand years... Or, I could ask Choronzon for some accommodations.

  And then, though it wasn't initially startling, I felt the familiar sensation of the phone vibrating in my hand. I got a notification. It's been a while since that's been part of my life, and yet it was still deeply ingrained into my muscle memory to check what it was. That's when my heart momentarily skipped a beat, and I felt the adrenaline sweats poking at my pores.

  It was a text. From Rose.

  It turned my stomach to even think about reading it, but my fingers moved faster than my brain.

  "Don't tell him I smuggled this to you, dipshit. He has no idea what a phone is, and for your sake, you should keep it that way."

  Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author's consent. Report any sightings.

  How? How the fuck? Those were the questions in my mind, so those were the ones I sent her.

  "How what? How does your SMS still work? I put a sigil on your SIM card. It took a lot of effort to get the little details right. It took like five hours."

  Well, I guess that was one of my questions, but it wasn't the question. How did I even get this stuff back at all? That's what I asked her.

  "Oh, I just grabbed one of your hoodies from your closet and asked Choronzon to give it to you. I slipped the phone inside."

  So you can just... talk to him?

  "Yeah, did you forget? I was the one who hooked you up with him to begin with. Just another thing on the list of stuff you haven't thanked me for yet."

  Thank you? For this? I'm literally in hell.

  "For now. Don't worry about your ten thousand year sentence or whatever. Just hang in there a little longer, and we'll get you out."

  My phone kept buzzing with more notifications, but I couldn't bother to check them. I was just lying back, staring at the ceiling in a daze. This last 10 minutes was already more mental stimulation than I've had for a long time. I didn't know how to process any of it. It was like my old self was trying to crawl out of the new self I've been thrust into.

  I didn’t know what to do but to try and sleep it off.

  My bed here is low to the ground, but not completely on the floor. The sheets were a baby blue, and quite comfortable. They were the thin and cool kind, not the warm and fuzzy kind. It was just one sheet, covering a mattress, and then a yellow blanket on top. I think it was weighted. Or maybe my muscles had just atrophied from being in the Circle of Sloth for too long, and everything feels weighted now. I don’t need to eat or use the restroom, so I doubt I need exercise either.

  Originally, I found it hard to sleep with just one blanket. I wasn’t cold at night, the temperature is always more or less perfect. I never notice it unless I make it a point to do so. It might not even be real in this world, and I just create it in my head. The warmth was fine, but I missed the little cocoon of blankets I used to make. I liked the feeling of being pressed down by comfort. It was like being surrounded by calmness. This new bedding didn’t fulfill that in the slightest, originally. But as I slept, night after night, and let go of the past—I could feel the weight of this new blanket. It wasn’t nearly as heavy as what I had grown accustomed to, so it felt light as a feather originally. But day after day, it grew heavier. And now, after months, I can’t imagine adding any more weight. It wasn’t actually getting heavier, or changing in any way. I was the one who was changing. By letting go of all the stimulation that those seven blankets gave me, my mind recalibrated, and I became more in-tune with my physical sensations. It was a subtle thing I appreciated, though in the grand scheme of things, it doesn’t really matter.

  Flopped in the bed, I felt the familiar sensation of sleep taking over my body. I was going to say it felt like I was shutting down, neuron by neuron, but it didn’t feel like anything. If going to sleep felt like something, you’d be awake, not asleep. I expected I’d jolt up in a shock, remembering my newly-recovered phone. It never happened. I was shocked at how easily I cast it out of my mind—or rather, out of my attention. There was no adrenaline, no anxiety, no dread. It was like it never even happened.

  But it did happen.

  Tomorrow, I’ll have to deal with it.