I could see my reflection in the subway window, my eyes with way more eye makeup than I normally wore staring back at me. Nobody else on the train seemed to be aware that the world had just ended. People were hunched over their phones or books, yawning and reading magazines, or staring up at the ads that ran along the top of the subway—Dr. Zizmor, Arecibo Car Service, 1-800-BANKRUPTCY, period underwear, meal-delivery kits.

For a second, I was just like all those people. But then, at my feet, Brad whined, and everything came flooding back. There’s only so long, after all, that your brain can block the reality of your situation. And mine was hitting me, full force.

I was in New York City with no phone, practically no money, and no friend.

And somehow I was the one who had ended up with the dog.

I closed my eyes, trying to fight down the waves of panic.

You don’t have a phone! You don’t have a phone! What are you going to dooooo? This was the fun chant my brain had come up with, and it was going round and round in my head to the tune of something that sounded a lot like “Baby Shark.”

Rather than actually face my situation, I decided instead to let myself feel just how mad I was at Kat.

Like it was an instant replay in sports, I saw it playing out in my head—Kat grabbing my phone like she always did, not even asking first, me for once trying to take what was mine back from her, and Ophelia flying up into the air, my grab that wasn’t close enough—and then the phone crashing down on the tracks.

And then our fight.

We’d never had a fight like that before—so vicious, so raw. I couldn’t believe the things I’d said to her, the ones I wished I could take back. And the things she’d said to me. I closed my eyes for a second, like this could stop me remembering, because replaying it was making me feel like I was about to burst into tears, right there on the B train.

And even after all that, she hadn’t even followed me onto the train. She’d left me behind. I spent my whole life following three steps behind her, and the one time I went first, she couldn’t even do a small thing like follow me, just once in four years.