The computer screen started to fade in and out of focus. The clattering of keys stopped momentarily, and the empty air was filled with the short sounds of creaking springs of an old mattress shifting beneath a person’s weight. Finally, a sigh escaped the person, and she rubbed her eyes beneath her glasses.

“This is taking way too long,” she muttered. Her music player changed tracks, and she hurriedly turned down the volume on her monitor so she wouldn’t rouse her parents.

It was 12:48 in the morning, way passed her normal bed-time. Normally, she would be in bed with the lights out by 9:30, but tonight was another night that she felt compelled to make something. It wasn’t anything big, but it was something that she had to get down before she forgot.

That was the bad thing about getting old; you begin to lose your memory.

Better than your mind.

“But your memory is part of your mind, so I’m technically loosing my mind,” she giggled shortly, but her facial muscles betrayed her fear and trembled into a frown. Her hands pushed her glasses off her nose, palms pushed into her eyes-preventing any tears from leaking out.

The grey cat on the end of her bed stretched and rolled in his sleep, emitting a tiny snore of content before settling with his legs sprawled out around him and his tail parallel to his body. She sniffled and wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, brushing her dark hair from her face as she leaned to stroke his soft fur. “You’re so lucky,” she whispered. “You don’t need to remember things like people’s names, dates, assignments or how to count. You can just let someone take care of you; you’re allowed to be dependent.” Her frown deepened. “I’m not.” He nuzzled into her hand unconsciously, but it was comforting to know that he acknowledged her presence and welcomed it.

“I don’t want to end up like Grandma. I don’t want to have to depend on someone to feed me and bathe me or get me dressed. I just want to be left alone, but that’s not right for some people. They’ve just got to pry!” A single hot tear ran down her face, dripping off her chin to her thin pyjama top. “But I’ll show them. I’ll be on my own until I die. I’ll prove that I can overcome years of poor genetics and worse luck.” She spun to face her computer, planting her feet on the cold hardwood floor and pulling the keyboard onto her lap.

“I’ll show them Miss Independent.”