Up to Eleven
by Pan
Zero.
At the eight week mark, Eric opened the app to an alarming sight.
Zero.
Zero!
He hadn’t even realized the app went to Zero.
In all the time he’d had the app, he’d never seen it go below One. He’d assumed that was the floor—that it was a standard scale, from One to Ten.
What the fuck did Zero mean?
Eric went about his workday, a vague feeling of unease hanging over him. When his wife came in to bring him his lunch, the unease turned into dread.
She had a…a look about her. Like her fire had gone out inside. Like she was still doing what she had to do, but there was no her any more.
If One was the lowest a person was meant to go, Zero was unhealthy.
Zero, Eric realized, was depression.
As soon as Jamie left, he knew what he had to do. He had to raise that number. He had to.
If he still could.