Katrina looked up from her laptop and glanced out the window. Her short dark hair fell softly around her hair as she looked down at the empty street below, and she pushed a few irritating strands out of her eyes. Glancing back at her screen, she noticed her latest project’s walls of text and numbers had suddenly disappeared and her screen had turned black.
“Fuck,” she spat out, slamming the lid shut in a surge of anger.
“What’s wrong?” a high-pitched, blocked-up-sounding voice asked from across the room, followed by a sneeze.
Without looking up from the belligerent PC, Katrina responded to her sickly roommate. “I didn’t notice the low battery. It died on me and my work wasn’t saved. Two hours of programming down the drain.”
“I’m sorry, bae,” Ella sniffled back, “Oh. Could you get me another toilet paper roll?” Katrina nodded, standing up and crossing the cramped living room, and turned left down the hallway. Popping into the small, tiled bathroom, she reached for the toilet paper before returning to the room.
“Catch,” she said irritably, throwing the roll onto the old couch where Ella lay supine. Then immediately after, she guiltily continued, “I’m sorry. It’s not your fault. I should have just gotten the charger earlier.”
“’S okay,” Ella responded, and opened her mouth to say more when the phone let out a series of rings. Crossing the room to answer it, Katrina lifted up the receiver to her ear.
“Katrina? Is that you? It’s Father. I’ve… I’ve got lung cancer.”