Fourteen Packets of Ramen!

I bought fourteen packets of ramen on the first day of summer term.

I remember counting them while shoving them into the tiny cabinet above my desk. Fourteen packets. Fourteen days. It felt efficient.

Summer wasn't supposed to be exciting anyway.

I was taking three classes. Altogether, there were maybe ten students between all of them. Summer classes were always small, so I didn't think much of it.

My weekdays were packed. I worked as a technical assistant from nine to two. Most of the job involved answering emails, fixing minor software issues, and helping professors with whatever technology problem they had managed to create for themselves.

On Saturdays, I worked in the woodshop from ten to two.

The rest of my time disappeared into assignments.

Every morning I'd wake up around seven-thirty. I used to tiptoe around the apartment so I wouldn't wake up my roommates. Sometimes I got jealous, thinking about how they had summer vacation while I had classes.

I was usually rushing out the door with coffee in one hand and my backpack in the other.

By the time I got back, it was around seven.

I'd make ramen.

Put on my earphones.

Work until midnight.

Sleep.

Repeat.

The days blended together so completely that sometimes I couldn't remember whether something had happened yesterday or four days ago.

Then I ate the last ramen packet.

I was standing in front of the cabinet when I noticed it was empty.

For some reason, that bothered me more than it should have.

Maybe because it was proof that two weeks had actually passed.

Two entire weeks.

I grabbed my phone to make a grocery list.

Ramen.

Eggs.

Bread.

Then another thought appeared.

When was the last time I saw either of my roommates?

I stared at the Notes app for a few seconds.

Not heard.

Seen.

I couldn't remember.

But then again...

I laughed at myself and thought,

"People have lives, Maya."

Summer internships.

Friends.

Relationships.

Maybe they were staying somewhere else.

Maybe I was just tired.

I bought another fourteen packets of ramen.

Life continued.

A few days later, I was sitting outside one of my classrooms waiting for the professor to arrive.

Across the courtyard, I saw a guy from my design class.

I didn't know his name.

Red backpack.

Curly hair.

Always sat in the third row.

I watched him disappear into a building.

Half an hour later, I saw him again coming out of a different one.

Same backpack.

Same clothes.

Crossing the courtyard from the same direction.

I frowned.

Maybe I was mistaken.

People looked alike.

It wasn't important.

But for some reason, I kept noticing him after that.

Not every day.

Just enough that he started standing out.

The girl with the green notebook.

The guy with headphones around his neck.

The librarian with the silver glasses.

The same faces.

Again and again.

I figured that was normal.

Campuses worked like that.

You saw the same people all the time.

Still, one evening while eating ramen, I realized I couldn't picture anyone else.

I could immediately think of those familiar faces.

But when I tried to remember someone new I'd seen recently, my mind went blank.

The feeling passed.

The next morning, I forgot about it.

A week later, I knocked on my roommate's door.

No reason.

Just curiosity.

No answer.

I knocked again.

Nothing.

I listened.

Silence.

The same thing happened with my other roommate's room.

I stood there for a moment before shrugging and leaving.

That night, I heard movement in the apartment.

Or at least I thought I did.

A door closing.

Footsteps.

The sound of a cabinet opening.

By the time I took off my headphones, everything was quiet.

The next morning, the apartment was empty again.

At least, I thought it was.

The weird part was that I couldn't remember ever seeing evidence that my roommates had left.

No suitcases.

No announcements.

Nothing.

I couldn't even remember the last conversation I'd had with them.

I knew their names.

I knew what they looked like.

But every memory felt blurry.

Like trying to read something through fogged glass.

The next few days, I started paying attention.

Not obsessively.

Just casually.

Who did I actually see every day?

The answer surprised me.

The same ten students.

The same professors.

The same workers.

The same handful of people.

Everyone else seemed to slide out of focus.

One afternoon, while working my assistant shift, I opened a CNC submission.

The request had been submitted the previous night.

The name attached to it made my stomach tighten.

It was one of my roommates.

I stared at the screen.

If she'd submitted her CNC the night before, then she was here.

Somewhere.

Living on the same campus.

Sleeping in the same apartment.

So why couldn't I remember seeing her?

That night, I waited.

No music.

No assignments.

No headphones.

Just silence.

Hours passed.

Midnight.

One o'clock.

Then I heard it.

A door opening.

A quiet laugh.

Footsteps.

The apartment wasn't empty.

It never had been.

Someone was moving around only a few feet away.

I rushed into the hallway.

The kitchen light was on.

Two girls stood by the counter.

One of them looked at me, confused.

"Maya?"

I froze.

It was Siddhi.

My roommate.

My actual roommate.

Then I looked past her.

Sakshi was standing beside the counter too.

The two girls I'd supposedly been living with all summer.

The two girls I hadn't seen in weeks.

Except the look on Siddhi's face suggested something worse.

Not that she'd been missing.

That I'd been acting strange.

"You okay?" she asked.

I opened my mouth.

Nothing came out.

Because as I looked at her, memories suddenly started surfacing.

Passing her in the hallway.

Hearing her laugh.

Seeing her leave for class.

Dozens of moments.

Maybe hundreds.

All things I'd somehow failed to notice.

As if my brain had been erasing everything that wasn't part of my routine.

And for the first time all summer, I was genuinely scared.

Not of the campus.

Not of my roommates.

Of myself.