When Emily awoke, her first words were a stream of curses directed at herself for having wet the bed. She hastily threw off the covers, grimacing at the damp patch on the cotton sheets and her bright red booty shorts. She quickly discarded the shorts, tossing them onto the wet bedding, and deftly folded the items together into a makeshift laundry ball. Emily let out a sigh of relief as she inspected the mattress, finding no trace of the mishap reaching it. She dumped the soiled sheets into the bottom of her laundry basket, where they joined a pair of period-stained underwear from time back. After filling the rest of the basket with her dirty clothes, she made up her mind to take a cold shower.

Under the shower's refreshing cascade, Emily contemplated the events that had led her to the peculiar day. She couldn't recall ingesting any pills, yet there was no sign of them anywhere. Perhaps she had indeed swallowed them and miraculously survived. Turning her face towards the showerhead, she reaffirmed to herself that she was not a ghost, for there was no body left behind. According to all expectations, she was supposed to be dead.

Emily held her breath, the sound of the shower droplets fading into the rhythm of her own pounding heart. She counted the seconds, determined to surpass her usual one-minute threshold. Her arms protested, clutching the tiled wall in front of her. As her lungs began to ache, she let out a hiccup and drew away from the water's assault on her face. Pain surged through her nose as the barrier of water broke, and she winced at the sensation. Emily emerged from beneath the shower, her body quickly recovering as she took in deep breaths, her heart pumping oxygen through her veins. Dizziness enveloped her, and her nose throbbed, confirming without a doubt that Ms. Emily was undeniably alive.

 
***
  

"Huh?" Emily looked up from her untouched mug of tea as Mrs. Stuart added a fried sausage to her plate, alongside two slices of toasted bread.

"I asked if you have any plans today," Mrs. Stuart repeated. Emily paused, her thoughts drifting back to the previous day when she had envisioned herself lying in a sleek coffin. The question now shifted the gears in her mind.

"Not really, why?" Emily inquired, aware deep down that she didn't truly care.

"I wanted to take you shopping," Mrs. Stuart said, her face lighting up. Officer Burns strolled into the kitchen, clad in Mrs. Stuart's purple dressing gown.

"It's Sunday," Emily reasoned aloud, aware that many shops would be closed unless they went to a mall, which could be costly.

"Yeah, I know," Mrs. Stuart beamed. "After church, there's usually nothing better to do."

"I need new sneakers too," Jordan chimed in, leaning against the doorway. He absentmindedly chewed on his toast, oblivious to the crumbs falling onto the floor.

"Emily's entering her third year of university, which means she'll be going for an internship soon," Mrs. Stuart explained, pausing as her boyfriend reached for a ceramic cup. "She needs proper clothes." Emily's eyebrows furrowed in realization of how swiftly time had flown. "Official attire," Mrs. Stuart emphasized, tapping Emily's arm. "No more crop tops, distressed jeans, or funny graphic tees–"

"And no miniskirts," Emily joined in the list.

"Exactly," Mrs. Stuart affirmed.

"My black J4s are worn out." Jordan continued, persisting with his own agenda. His comment remained unnoticed.

"I can go by myself," Emily responded.

"Are you sure?" Mrs. Stuart paused. Officer Burns leaned against the counter, sipping his own tea in silence. He had learned to stay off matters that warranted deep family relations to tackle. Whether he knew it or not, Emily appreciated the old man for this.

"Yes."

"How much do you need?" Mrs. Stuart reached for her phone across the kitchen counter surface. "I'll do a mobile transfer."

Once the finances were sorted, with Mrs. Stuart practically begging Emily to bargain on the prices as 'most of the sellers are thieves', Emily grabbed her plate of food and exited the kitchen space. In her room, Emily sat and watched her tea go cold from lacking the appetite. It didn't mean that she was any less hungry either.

 
***

 
Emily's new version appeared to possess an enhanced capacity to perceive even the most minute details. While struggling to slip into her well-worn maroon vans, she couldn't help but observe how they had molded to the contours of her feet, and how a faint whitewashing adorned the middle section. Clad in a gray tunic dress layered over a black turtleneck, she also sported fishnet stockings that disappeared into her black Dr. Martens. A vibrant green crystal gem adorned the left side of her bare head. Her makeup was flawlessly applied, with the white eyeliner precisely positioned as she had envisioned. Despite feeling content with her attire, she harbored a sense of unease about the necessity of going through the whole process. She was supposed to be dead.

Upon stepping outside the house, Emily applied a fresh coat of lip gloss and inhaled deeply, only to find that the air lacked the comforting scent of cinnamon and mint. Filled with newfound determination, she reluctantly detached herself from the familiarity of her home and headed towards Sweetwater's Pine park.
 
 
Mouse was, at best, a mouse. His face was slender, his insiccors jutting out the normal line of his jaw, his eyes beady and restless. It was a surprise to Emily how all these features pulled in to make such a cute face. It was necessary to be a little ugly in order to be truly hot and his genes seemed to have understood the assignment.

"Not selling today?" Emily asked noticing a missing fanny pack. He had no bike with him either.

"Nah, I'm here to help shawty do drugs." Mouse sniffed the air. "Love whatever style you got going on." He added at the end.

Emily mumbled a thanks and clutched her empty tote bag. It was a black one, with a lyric from Twenty one pilots' 'Truce' stitched on the surface in bright yellow. Beneath the curving words was a printed sun with a smiley face scribbled on with a black sharpie.

The sun will rise, and we will try again.
 

"I was thinking I'd do it myself," Emily began eyeing her surroundings. It was chilly and the clouds were pulling. There was a high probability of rain that evening. Emily doubted she would be able to do whatever she'd gone out of the house for while high on whatever drugs Mouse brought with him.

"Nah, that's bad luck." Mouse withdrew his left arm from his tracksuit pocket to accompany his statement. Emily eyed the silver skull ring on his index and another plain one on his ring finger. "Come on, I know a spot." Emily shrugged and jogged to his side. "So what's your name?"

Emily paused to think about the question. She had lied because she didn't see the need to get to know someone yet she would pass on the very same day.

"Emily."

"Emily." He repeated, tasting the name inside his mouth. "Emily, my friends call me Mouse."

"What's your real name though?"

"Mickey." Emily turned to face him. He looked dead serious. Emily burst out laughing. She laughed so hard she ended up choking on her own spit. "What? What's funny?"

"Mickey?" Emily repeated regaining her breath. She took a deep breath and used her left hand to wipe off a tear drop. "Like Mickey Mouse?"

"I was actually bullied into it." Mickey divulges the information with a grin. "Didn't like it at first but grew into it." Emily was still recovering from her laugh. She clutched the side of her ribs and sighed. A fleeting thought crossed her mind, begging her to stay alive for more similar laughs in the future. "What about you, you have any nicknames?"

Emily smiled at herself. Growing up, she mostly kept to herself. She was cool, but not cool enough to be labeled so. It was only after highschool that she expressed herself more and made new connections.

"No."

"Not even one."

"Nop." She turned to face Mickey. "You could actually pass as a Mouse."

"What gave it away, the teeth?" Emily nodded. "Shouldn't that make me a rabbit instead?"

"A rabbit is just a bigger rodent." Emily responds.

"Who the hell was your biology teacher?"
 
 
Emily and Mickey strolled through the park, engaging in playful banter and meandering conversations that always took bizarre turns. As they reached the end of the path, Mickey skillfully maneuvered through a fence and held it open for Emily to follow.

"Isn't this illegal or something?" Emily questioned as she entered the premises. The old paper factory loomed at the far end of the field, its chimneys and roofs gradually succumbing to an unattractive brown hue.

"Not if we don't get caught," Mickey replied with a grin. He scanned their surroundings. "Last one there is a frog's spouse!" Mickey shouted suddenly and sprinted toward the nearest building. Lately, Emily had been burdened by a heavy and tainted soul, experiencing constant lethargy and unexplained bodily discomfort. She knew she couldn't outrun Mickey. Despite this realization, Emily chased after him, secretly hoping for a chance to trip him up.
 
 
Mickey led Emily into a large cylindrical structure that appeared to be a storage silo. However, the building stood empty, its surface scattered with weathered papers and torn boxes. The two of them hopped over the debris until they reached a ladder leading upward. Emily estimated that about five floors were missing. At the top, a cone-shaped metal structure shielded the room from the sun. Previous intruders, presumably kids, had left behind profanity-laden graffiti on the walls.

Emily followed Mickey's lead, ascending the ladder while trying to decipher the remaining marks on the white walls. At the pinnacle, a rusty bridge connected to the roof of a square building.
 

"I'm starting to think you brought me here to kill me," Emily quipped from behind.

"With this view? Absolutely!" Mickey shouted, continuing onward. Emily sighed and followed him to the other side. To her relief, the second building was made of cement and had a spacious roof. The edges were raised about four feet high. Emily walked to the eastern side, gazing out over the field and the fence they had trespassed. She felt safe from harm in her current position.

Mickey pulled a brown bag from his yellow bomber jacket and leaned against a wall. Emily joined him moments later.

"How did you find this place?" Emily inquired.

"Chasing sunsets," Mickey replied in an instant, as if he had already figured her out and anticipated her questions. He placed a joint between Emily's lips and effortlessly lit the exposed end with a cool lighter in a single strike.

Emily drew in the smoke and took a deep inhale through her mouth. The warmth and slight nervousness enveloped her as the smoke filled her lungs. As she exhaled, she examined her joint.

"As much as I appreciate the free weed..." she began, licking her lips.

"It's laced," Mickey informed her, a proud grin on his plump lips.

"Huh," Emily scooted further into the corner against the wall. "With what?"

"Coke." Mickey revealed.

Emily let out a shaky breath. She took another puff to mask the fear creeping in. "Cool, cool."

"You have to stay calm," Mickey advised from his side. They continued smoking their joints in silence, with Mickey occasionally tapping away on his phone. When he was halfway through his, he put it out and placed it back in the brown bag. "Do you listen to 6LACK?"

Emily stared at the sky above her. Her eyelids fluttered under the gentle rays of the sun. She felt vulnerable, yet she forced herself to remain composed.

"Yeah," Emily tilted her head to look at Mickey. "A little bit." She only knew one popular song, a collaboration he did with J. Cole. Mickey nodded and played a funky pop tune on his phone.

Emily's gaze fixated on his profile, observing the intricate details of his dreadlocks down to the rings adorning his fingers. As he shed his jacket, revealing a black graphic tee layered over a long-sleeved white shirt, Emily momentarily blinked and shifted her attention back to the serene clouds.

Her entire body responded to his presence, except for her mind. She summoned all her strength to maintain composure and avoid losing control. She reminded herself that she wanted this, she had initiated the idea.

Mickey posed a question, setting off a new chain of inquiries. As the sun began its descent, Mickey revealed a delicate tattoo on his right arm to Emily.

"It's pink!" Emily exclaimed, turning her attention to the clouds. Delight was evident in her voice. She strolled towards the western edge, kneeling beside the concrete barricade. The worn wooden splinters and rusty wire mesh bit into her knees, tearing her black stockings in the process. Nevertheless, Emily remained captivated by the heavens. "It's so incredibly beautiful," she whispered, a tear escaping her left eye. "I could simply die at this very moment." With widened eyes, she absorbed the explosion of colors painted across the sky.

Behind her, Mickey chuckled and skipped to the next song.

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