Anonymous POV
The walls of the lab felt colder than usual. The sterile air, once a comfort in its predictability, now pressed in on Sade like an invisible weight. August bled into September, yet time felt irrelevant. She moved like a ghost through her own life, floating from her desk to the lab, from the microscope to her laptop, mechanically completing tasks that once brought her pride. She still excelled—her work remained impeccable, her contributions essential—but she was nothing more than a machine, performing functions without feeling.
She hadn't redone her braids. New growth had overtaken the neat parts, stray strands slipping from their places. Her outfits, once a reflection of her confident and polished self, had lost all intention. Nothing matched. Nothing mattered.
People at w
