RIley:
Morning didn’t arrive so much as seep in. A pale grey light bled through the curtains, slow and merciless, painting the edges of the room with cold.
I hadn’t slept. Not in any way that mattered at least. My body had lain down, but every sound of the house had found me—settling beams, the groan of old pipes, the echo of footsteps that had stopped outside my door and never crossed the threshold.
I lay still until I couldn’t anymore. My skin prickled with the memory of him just beyond the wood, my chest heavy with the weight of everything unsaid. Finally, I swung my legs over the side of the bed, the sheets twisting and falling away like the remnants of a dream I hadn’t had.
The floorboards were cool against my bare feet. My hand brushed the wall as I crossed the room, steadying my
