The One Where No One's Ready Novels & Stories

Alive. “One…”

Before the birthday party starts, my boyfriend, Edward Parker, casts his phone onto the large screen in the private room. He starts an anonymous poll in the group chat we share with our friends. The question is, "Tonight, should I stay and cut the cake with my girlfriend, or go to the premiere with my childhood friend?" A 30-second countdown begins as the votes keep climbing. His childhood friend, Renee Lane, gets 17 votes while I get just one. Everyone thinks I'm the one who has voted for myself. Edward leans back against the couch and smiles. "The minority yields to the majority." Renee hands him the movie ticket. "Guess everyone agrees that I need you more." Meanwhile, I'm standing

Jason’s name filled the screen, over and over again. “Hey, are you ready?” “I’m outside.” “Did you leave already?” “Hello??” “Are you okay?” “I’ve been waiting for 20 minutes.” “Guess you’re not coming?” Each message carried a shift in tone, from excitement to confusion, then impatience, and finally disappointment. Mixed in were a few missed calls, their timestamps making my stomach sink even further. I sat up quickly, the weight of realization hitting me all at once. I hadn’t just been late I had completely disappeared. No warning, no explanation. Just silence.

ready to go. Case closed.

And in that charged, breathless silence… No one moves. Not yet.

Take care 💕🥺 Heh, you are all so dramatic. Just chillax there when I’m here k 😄😄😄, get ready when I come back, the deal we made ago, do it now. Scarlet: 😱😱😫, I forget it Onee-chan. Black: 😤🥺it’s not fair. Scarlet: 😖😖 I’m ready for it even I’m not ready. Pink: We can do it, guys. Red: I’m always ready, aye aye aye 😝😝😝

The display. The concert. Noah's four minutes and thirty seconds about permafrost. The staying coming first. The deciding coming after. All of it preparation. For this. For tomorrow. For one afternoon in January in a warehouse with north light and fourteen people who knew the whole story. "Yes," I said. "I'm ready." She looked at me. The real expression. The one that was entirely hers. "Good," she said. From his room. Noah's voice. "Can we have the pasta tonight?" he said. "For the day before the wedding."

I am going to stand in this kitchen and I am going to call my mother and I am going to say I'm back and she is going to say where did you go and I am going to have to begin the explaining, the specific work of explaining thirty-seven days to the person who had been worried about all thirty-seven of them. She thought: I am not ready. She thought: I have been not-ready since the magazine. She thought: not-ready is still the managed version. Not-ready is the version that files the call under the category of the things that require preparation, that require the interior to be in the correct arrangement before the exterior can receive what the call will bring. Not-ready is the thing she had been

“Over and yes im ready over” “Good now shut up and get on with it, we go in 10..9..8..7..6..5..4..3..2..1…” ‘Boooooooom’

Nicole looked at the clock in the room and said, “I’m kind of in a hurry so I’ll make my story brief and comprehensive. After breaking your heart, I owe you an explanation my darling Muhammad.” Muhammad tried switching on the radio on his belt, in hope that anyone on the other end could listen to the conversation if the signal was restored. If Maryam and he were going to die tonight, their death might as well not be in vain. The most important thing was revealing the real identity of The First One.