Cassian
You forgot your nurse costume.
I hit send, the screen illuminating the dim interior of the sedan, and tossed the phone onto the passenger seat. Within ten seconds, the twin checkmarks turned blue.
A moment later, they stayed blue. No typing bubble. No defensive paragraph. Just left on read.
A small smile touched my lips, private and completely unprompted. It was the sort of expression I rarely let anyone see, a faint softening around the mouth that felt entirely foreign on my face.
My fingers stayed loose on the wheel as I navigated the early morning streets. The city was just beginning its shift, the first delivery trucks starting their routes under a gray, overcast sky.
My chest still held the lingering warmth of the studio apartment, the quiet gravity of the last twelve hours exactly where I wanted to be. For the first time in months, the constant noise in my head had gone perfectly quiet.
I glanced at the side mirror to change lanes.
The smile vanished.
