Smith pushed the office door open and stepped aside.
“Please,” he said softly, “you may go in, sir.
Moonshine crossed the threshold.
At first, there was only darkness thick, suffocating until a single dim light burned at the far end of the room. A sharp click followed, and another light flickered on, the sound echoing unnaturally in the silence.
“Good evening, Mr. Calvin,” Moonshine greeted, his voice betraying him with a faint tremor.
The fragile glow finally revealed Calvin’s face. His striking features emerged from the shadows, sharp and composed, his blue eyes glinting like distant stars cold, watchful, unreadable.
“What award did you win again?” Calvin asked, his tone smooth, almost idle.
“The International Photography Award,” Moonshine replied, swallowing hard.
A pause stretc
