Adam had several clocks in his room but none of them worked.

None of your clocks work, Michelle said.

I know, he said. Should I fix them or live without time? Like an aboriginal.

Michelle said, The question is can you fix them.

I can get batteries. They just need batteries.

Maybe the aboriginals just need batteries too. I don’t think they have 7-11 in Australia. Australia seems like a lot of desert.

Adam leaned against his desk. They have 7-11 everywhere, he said. His desk fell to one side, both left legs disconnected. Everything slid onto the floor.

Shit, Adam said. This is like the third time that’s happened. I think I’m cursed.

You’re not cursed, Michelle said. Your desk is broken. That’s all.

At least it’s clean now, he said, propping it up. He forced the legs into place and picked up his laptop. He put it back on the desk and plugged it in. But not before it died.

It died really fast, Michelle said.

It always does that. The battery is fucked.

That sucks, she said. Batteries suck.

My life is falling apart. I can feel it.

Your life isn’t falling apart, just your furniture.

Same thing. My life is fucked.

I hope you don’t mean that.

He stared at himself, sitting next to her, reflected in the black screen, until the laptop started.