Little doodles dangle off the edge of the counter. Even more hang from the three-layered, silver order wheel. Doodles on order pads, receipt paper, napkins, and practically anything and everything. I sit hunched over on one of the tables, elbows resting on the grimy surface, hands holding my thousand pound head upright. Dark circles enhance the large bags that have emerged under my eyes. It looks as if I have aged 10 years in 10 days. A lack of sleep will do that to you.

The longer I stay at the diner, the less sleep I get. The slightest sound I hear wakes me up in hopes of it being Brayden. The rustling of trash blowing down the vacant sidewalk. The tapping of a passing rain shower against the large front window. Sounds like these keep the fight against sleep alive.

There is still no sign of Brayden. It's been over a week since I've seen another human being.

"Is this how things are going to be forever? Well, at least for a while, I'm sure..." The line between reality and dreams has completely blurred. I can't tell what's real anymore. I tell myself that I need to get up to wash myself. That's another perk of living in a diner. I have an almost endless supply of dish soap. Even though I look terrible, I at least am clean. I begin to move across the room, but my body lurches beyond my control. My head bobs, which plucks me back into real life.

"Bloody micronaps," I complain with the little energy that's left. "I can't stay here anymore. I'm going to lose my mind!" I make one of the toughest decision of my life. I have to check the other places. I pack anything that may have importance after I leave: extra food, some dish soap, towels, and of course, all the clothes I initially packed. On the way out, I grab a brochure that, when unfolded, transforms into a map of Houston. I grasp one of the remaining pens. I place a large star in the blue gel ink at the corner where the garage is settled. And with that, I set out on my next adventure.

The combination of sleep deprivation and cabin fever takes my mind to a trippy, unfamiliar territory. I am quickly convinced that I am a modern Lewis and Clark.

"No wonder it took so long to discover all of America. All this equipment feels like elephants resting on either shoulder. I even packed light!" I continue talking to myself about nonsense things I see. I say things like, "I feel sorry for whoever has to clean all this up," and, "People are going to be getting a lot of insurance money, I bet." It isn't until after I pass a dirt-covered child's shoe close by to a pile of rubble the true nature of this event takes place. My heart aches for others who are in similar or worse situations as myself.

"Probably one of the best things about having a city-wide power outage is not knowing the extent of the damage. I wonder if the rest of the country even knows this happened..." My rambling is interrupted when I see a red brick building with the words 'Downtown Garage' written on a white sign that sways above an open garage door. The roof has caved in. Only the frame of the building is left. A large knot forms in the pit of my stomach.

I cautiously approach the remains. In my head, I know he's not there. In my heart, I know I need to check. I get within 10 feet of the building and begin hollering Brayden's name. As expected, there is no answer.

I don't waste any time at the garage. I retrace my steps and follow the map back to the diner, then, as best as I can, retrace my steps to the parked car. Somehow I'm able to arrive at the car without getting lost or losing my keys, which always seems to happen. I climb into the driver's seat of the 2011 silver Mazda3. I jerk the door shut and start the engine. This bit of familiarity makes me forget the post-apocalyptic-like scenario I seem to be living. With map in hand, I locate an alternate route to take me to the other side of the city.

It isn't long into the leisurely drive that I notice a yellow-orange light illuminating the bottom right edge of the dashboard.

"Crap," I growl as I clench my teeth together. I allow my foot to move a tad closer to the floor. "Why am I even following road rules? I haven't seen anyone else in forever!" I end up making it all but six miles out of the city before my car comes to a puttering stop.

"I guess that's it; no more driving at least." I exit the vehicle, not taking any note of the time or setting sun behind me. I walk for maybe 10 minutes before stopping.

"What am I doing!?" I stare down the dimly lit road that lies ahead of me. Unfamiliar sounds echo throughout the silence. I instantly become terrified. "I don't know what kind of animals live out here! For all I know, a bobcat or coyote could attack me!"

I make a beeline back to the car. I run so fast that if someone was watching me, they would think a wild animal was chasing me. I rip open the left rear door and jump in, slamming the silver door behind me. I cower in the backseat.

"I found home for the night, I guess." I awkwardly maneuver a way to drop the back row of seats. This way, it's a bit more comfortable laying down, at least. Just to be safe, and a bit out of habit, I lock the doors. I take a bite of the lone apple. I'm not that upset this is the last of the fruit either. To be quite frank, I'm starting to get real tired of apples and bananas.

I try to relax, but it's impossible. I know there's no chance Brayden will find me here. That's not why I can't relax. What I'm afraid of is that someone else will find me.

Each time I begin drifting off to sleep it seems that something makes sure I don't. There'll be a twig that snaps nearby or something that pings off the roof. Regardless of what it is, I can confidently say this was the worst night sleep of my life.

As soon as the soft glow of the morning light materializes out of the darkness, I begin my quest to reach our third and final designated meeting place. I walk all day. I watch as the sun circles around my body. With the first hint of nightfall I quickly become frantic. There's no diner and no car to camp out in tonight. Tonight, it's just me and the open world.

"Thank goodness Brayden would always make me watch those dumb survival shows. He would repeatedly ask me to go on adventure hikes with him. At least I'll have some general idea of how not to die." I look around the surrounding area. By now I've made it deep into the woods. "Although sleeping unprotected in the middle of the woods is risky in itself, it does come in handy. Now I can sleep up in the trees like a group of baby birds. Wow," I grunt. "I'm starting to annoy myself!"

I find a tree that I'm actually able to climb using my weak arms. I climb until I find a few branches settled close by. Before settling myself into the makeshift bed I peak over the edge. I am a wee bit afraid of heights, so I prepared myself for the worst. I'm pleasantly surprised when I see I'm barely even 15 feet off the ground.

"At least I won't die if I fall." In my heart, however, I know there's no way I'm getting any sleep. I pass the time by watching raccoon, deer, fox, and opossum use the cover of night to travel and eat. I daydream about life before all of this; I dream about my parents, college days when I wasn't sure I'd be able to handle it anymore, work (which I never thought I'd miss), and of course, Brayden. I imagine him standing at the end of the aisle. I attempt to hold back tears as I calculate what day it is.

"Tomorrow's going to be rough," I whisper. "Tomorrow's supposed to be our wedding day. Spent a year planning for this big, fancy wedding — for what?" I can't quite tell if I'm more frustrated with the idea of not getting married, having wasted all that money or not knowing if Brayden is OK or not.

Thoughts continue to flutter in and out of my head like a butterfly enjoying a peaceful spring day. At first sight of sunlight I descend from my bird nest-like bed. My leg gives out when I go to take a step.

"Oof. I'm more stiff than I thought." I take a moment to stretch out my sore, aching muscles before continuing the final leg of my journey.

I'm walking through the woods. The damp, fallen leaves crunch beneath my feet. The last bit of fog lingers on the horizon. I haven't slept for what seems like a year. At this point, motivation is fueling me to keep going. I know I'm sheer minutes away from climbing up to our their and final meeting place.

I keep a steady pace. "One-two, one-two," I repeat over and over. "One-two, one-two, one-two, o—" I suddenly forget how to count. All the air in my lungs is vacuumed out when the appearance of a large oak tree towering high above the trees develops just feet before me.

I become so excited that I freeze dead in my tracks. Before too long, my body thaws out, allowing me to take back control. I sprint to the wooden pegs that form a latter ascending the largest tree. I use the last sliver of energy to hoist myself up the latter. I launch open the tiny trap door in the floor into the — empty treehouse.

There's no use in crying or being upset anymore. I just silently take shelter in the back-left corner of the treehouse. For the last time I take out the picture frame and place it on the floor. I lay staring at the picture from that night at Dienner's. Brayden hired a secret photographer to capture the moment he proposed. He knew I'd always want to remember that perfect moment. I don't think either of us expected I'd have to remember it in a time like this, though. Completely drained of all energy, I yet again begin drifting off to sleep. I can no longer fight.

I'm not exactly sure how long I'm asleep before I hear a rustling across the tiny room. Through my tired, unsteady eyes, I can only see the toes of a pair of black sneakers mere inches from my face. The shoes move to reveal a pair of knees, which slide down to reveal a familiar face.

"Good morning, beautiful."

Am I hearing things right!? I spread my eyes wide open to see Brayden's smiling face come into focus. His dark, green eyes illuminate in the bright afternoon sun as they did in my dream weeks ago.

"I've been waiting for you."

The End