Some loose oranges tumbled out of Monica's arms as she tried unlocking the door to her apartment. The sky was unmoving and gray, and the wind rattled the leaves stuck to branches and turned over the ones that lay on the grass. She set her grocery bags down at her feet, knelt down and reached for the rolling oranges.

Her cell phone pinged. She had a text from her mother.

Mom: Things have been very busy at work, sweetheart. I'm sorry for not calling you back the other day. Also, I still owe you a birthday present. What would you like?

Monica sat down in front of her door and put the oranges back into the bag. What did Monica want for her belated birthday present? What did Monica want from her mother? What did Monica want?

She watched a lone leaf shuffle and skip across the parking lot below her. It was being poked and pushed by the breeze. It had no real direction of its own. No set path.

Monica: A gift card is fine. Thanks.

She snapped her phone shut and gathered her grocery bags up. She heard more than one man in her apartment. Their coffee table was pushed to the side. Owen and Eric were messing around on their acoustic guitars. They had notebooks, pens and a bag of pretzels scattered on the carpet. Owen was laying on his back, with his knees up, his arm resting over his eyes as Eric played a slow and somber melody.

"I like that a lot better," Owen nodded his head, his eyes still closed as he spoke. "What about the other one you were working on?"

Eric took his baseball cap off and rustled the roots of his sandy blonde curls. "No way. That one's not ready yet." He smoothed his hair back a few times and placed the cap backwards on his head.

Owen batted the air above him with his hand. "I don't care. Play it anyway."

Monica unloaded all the groceries and put them where they belonged. She got a bowl down from the cupboard. She cut a green apple in half and placed it the bowl along with an orange. She smiled meekly over at Owen, but he still had his eyes shut, listening to Eric as he strummed his guitar.

She shut the bedroom door behind her and opened the curtains. There wasn't much to see besides gray and the tops of trees. Further onward she could vaguely see the grid of streets and scattered heights of the buildings that made up the downtown area. She sat on her bed and peeled her orange.

Slice by slice, she ate it. She moved on to the apple, yet could feel a pull downward. An invisible weight pressing on her chest.

Astrid would bring in fresh fruit to the daycare some mornings. Sometimes it was a huge watermelon, other times a fruit salad she woke up early to prepare. Strawberries. Grapes. Pineapple. Monica recalled how Astrid would save herself a few watermelon slices in the fridge and sit at the picnic table, alone, watching the children play outside, eating the juicy, ruby red fruit in the sun. 

Monica slid herself to the edge of the bed, leaning forward and reaching her hand underneath it. She brought Astrid's laptop onto her lap and turned it on. The screen glowed its welcome and invited Monica to enter a password. She looked out the window into the gray sky just as raindrops began tapping against the glass.

The weight on her chest was still heavy, but she felt as if she had a hand around the corner of the slab weighing her down. She held it up and tried wiggling out from beneath it.

She typed watermelon into the login screen. Instantly, she was greeted with Astrid's homescreen. Rows and rows of blocks of colors. Pinks, blues, oranges, yellows and black.

Monica covered her mouth with her hand. She had stumbled upon an enchanted land, forbidden and incandescent. As if not feeling deserving of such a gift at that time, Monica logged out and shut the laptop down. She placed it back underneath her bed and finished eating her apple. She put the television on and turned up the volume, laying on her side, watching the rain gather speed as it continued to fall.

She could finally attempt to lift that slab off her chest. She didn't feel so helpless anymore. She didn't feel so lost.