It was becoming increasingly apparent to Fredrick that their life was spiraling. It had, in all likelihood, been spiraling for quite some time, but they were not famed for their self-reflection skills. And so, it was only now becoming increasingly apparent that their life was spiraling. His thesis was stalled--one professor on sabbatical and the other too checked out to answer his questions. The record store was struggling to make rent again, which meant payments would be late. And Eric--well, it did seem that Eric was the one consistently good thing, a problem unto itself.

Eric was like a whirlwind that one couldn’t help but enjoy being swept up in. That was always the case. But lately, there was something different. Something more pronounced. Fredrick was accustomed to Eric’s semi-manic enthusiasm for things, but this felt different. He couldn’t put his finger on why--see, again, the lack of reflective skills, combined with the fact that Fredrick tried very hard not to spend too much time thinking about Eric, lest those pesky feelings emerge. Whatever it was, though, it was somehow both the only pleasant part of most days, and the most worrisome.

Today, in an attempt to gain control of the spiral and not think about Eric, for example, Fredrick was trying desperately to put together a half-decent meal. They were not succeeding. In fact, it was going so poorly that when Eric came home--late, though Fredrick wasn’t thinking about that--Fredrick couldn’t even beat themself up for their excitement. “Thank god you’re home,” he called from the kitchen, where the smoke alarm was not going off. Not anymore, at least. “Please tell me there’s food on you. I’m not sure it’s safe to use the oven.”