Within a couple of days, the apology was no longer online
and nobody ever cared to explain why.
The people who had always been suspicious would only sigh, frustrated,
when they found that it was impossible for Clayton to have deleted his anonymous post.
It must have been mass-reported.
But nobody could understand who would do that.
Clayton just took it for granted, because everything was going
perfectly, perfectly, perfectly, yes.
And the internet forgot.
But now their memories of him were not as sour as before.
Perfect.
...
Eventually,
Clayton also forgot about that fake confession.
The speedrunning controversy became a thing of the past.
From that night on, Clayton slept soundly in his bed every night.
Oh, right.
Sleep.
...
Doctors, has he woken up yet?
No? Alright, I'll keep talking, then.
...
It was the morning after the apology.
He sat on a velvety red chair in the living room,
not the basement.
Everyone else in the house slept as the orange glow of the rising sun
oozed through the broad windows.
He remembered that it was the same orange sky
from when he had started that final speedrun stream,
and he smiled.
Because this time, it would get brighter instead of darker.
...
His eyelids drooped a little.
Well, he was tired. He had not slept that night.
But Clayton felt... changed
in a good way.
As if he had been trapped in a cardboard box for the last year
and now one of the sides had been opened.
I guess I should make some changes.
...
The first thing that he decided during that orange sunrise
was that he would never again stay up until three or four in the morning.
It's not doing me any good.
His second decision was that he would buy a house.
It's probably about time now. What's my life gonna look like in ten years, anyway?
Finally, Clayton decided to get closer to his friends
because people always said that was a good idea.
That whole thing with the grimacing and the rotten eggs was just a false alarm,
a figment of his overactive imagination, surely.
...
I did something good today and I'll do another good thing
tomorrow.
Yes,
maybe I'll donate to some speedrunners or something.
But tomorrow, not today.
He
yawned.
...
And as the sky brightened and the birds chirped,
Clayton felt great.
He felt lucky.
He held his head up high.
...
Somewhere in the distance, music is playing.
Marching closer.
The credits are coming,
waiting for everything to fade to black.
It seems like this might be the end of the story.
...
But wait.
The roof,
the hospital,
the doctors.
What's up with all that?