I grip the man who helped bury the truth beneath a collapsed bridge. The river tries to wrench him from my hands. For one suspended heartbeat, I could let the current decide. Instead, I choose the harder rescue.
The star held its light, refusing to vanish on schedule, a small bright argument against the sky changing its mind.
The world snapped open. Wind tore at my limbs, roaring so loud it erased thought. My hand moved toward the main handle out of habit. Then stopped. Jane never knew when it began. Abby never saw the moment coming. I did. I crossed my arm over my chest and pulled the reserve.
The star stays, a single syllable of light, refusing to fade. Something in me leans. I stand, lit from inside.
EMERGENCY ALERT INCOMING MISSILE THREAT SEEK IMMEDIATE SHELTER THIS IS NOT A TEST IMPACT ESTIMATE: 14 MINUTES
My phone erupts—harsh, jagged, loud enough to scrape nerves raw. The sound doesn’t stop. EMERGENCY ALERT INCOMING MISSILE THREAT SEEK IMMEDIATE SHELTER THIS IS NOT A TEST IMPACT ESTIMATE: 14 MINUTES Sirens blast overhead. Not a test. Fourteen minutes. The kids. Now.
The laptop glows in the dim kitchen, the window giving nothing back. I click Join anyway. By the time we reach the trail, I already know I don’t belong. I notice the tracks before anyone else. Large. Deep. Clean. Not crossing. Running alongside.
“How do you stay so calm?” “Stop expecting rescue. Reinforce the spine. Guard the soft spots.” “Lonely costs less than therapy.”
An affair. A gun. One question that demands yes or no. But the wrong answer isn’t the only danger in the room.
