The Blackout Within

The notification appeared before her eyes opened. She tried to dismiss it.

It stayed. The apartment stayed locked. Lights dead. Water dead.

Coffee machine silent as a tomb. She sat in front of her tablet, hands trembling.

She typed one sentence. The kitchen lights flickered on. She typed five more. Hot water returned.

On sentence twenty, the espresso machine hissed awake like a dragon uncaging. She wrote until

her wrists burned. When she tapped save, she realized the room had fully powered

itself. Not as reward. As proof. She’d been the blackout the whole time.