THEA
The elevator dings, but I don’t lift my eyes.
Lyra’s message glows on my screen.
Lyra: Hey. Maybe you’ve got a million things going on, but disappearing isn’t the best thing.
Lyra: A missed call.
Lyra: Return my call when you see this. Don't let me fly over.
Lyra: How can you even manage not to HMU for twenty four hours straight? This is the second time. (man pulling his hair GIF).
Lyra: Is it your grumpy ass of a boss?
Lyra: A missed call.
I stare at it, thumb hovering over the keyboard, unsure of what to say. She’s right. I’ve been MIA. Again. It’s a habit now—vanishing whenever things get messy, like retreating makes the storm quieter. It doesn’t.
I hate this part of me. The part that disappears when people start knocking too hard or when the voices in my head get too
