Even now, the old grief comes back.
I almost close the lid, curl up and pull my covers back over my head.
But then a notification pops up.
From Minecraft. Minecraft Realms: Eighth Month has Invited you to join “Sixty-Two Degrees”
I laugh in disbelief and through the pounding haze in my brain, joy spikes.
Of course. Oh my God. Oh my God.
I’ve been so much more out of it than I thought.
It’s not like I forgot him. Just?—
My external mouse flies off the side of the lap desk in my haste to click the little icon.
“Shit!” I hiss, grabbing it even as my fingers shake when I click accept and open Minecraft. Which immediately starts running an update because I haven’t opened the game in so long. I’m shocked it’s still even installed.
After Sunday and the pain and brain fog that came crashing in immediately after that horrible service, I’ve beenso, so out of it, it was easier to let August go than hold out any real hope.
The install takes forever.
Beyond forever.
It takesinfinitylong.
If I could crawl out of this bed, I’d get up and pace.
And then it opens!
The world loads one precious block at a time. Grass. Sky. Water. Then glass blocks glowing blue and purple beneath my feet.
I’ve spawned on the edge of a blocky little pool, and right in front of me is a sign with a little chest on the ground beside it that reads:
You are not crazy.
I remember too.
A sob erupts from my entire body, shaking me as I open the little wooden chest. Inside it is a written book.
I click to read it, and tears roll down my cheek.
[You are real.
The last month was real.
You laughed in the hot tub.
You jumped in the sixty-two-degree pool.
You called it approximately swimming.
He does not get to erase that.]
Tears are pouring down my cheeks and I have to lean over to where my tissue box is on the nightstand to blow my nose. I click around the map and discover a lovingly built, ridiculous, blocky recreation of our first night: the hot tub, the pool, the cabin, and a sign that says:
I WON’T COME CLOSER UNLESS YOU ASK.