“Water," Clarence texted at 9 a.m. “Then nap. Then walk 5 minutes. Report in."
Emma replied: “Bossy." Then: “Okay."
Sophie chimed in a beat later: “Do not doomscroll. If you must, doomscroll with supervision."
Emma set the phone face down and drank. The apartment sounded like a hotel pretending to be home. The bouquet Sophie had exiled to the far windowsill drooped like a guilty conscience.
She put on shoes. Five minutes, she told herself. Down the block, back. No audience.
The hallway was quiet. The elevator sighed her down to a lobby where the doorman said “Morning" in a voice that didn't know where to file sympathy. Outside, the light was too clean for the internet.
She made it one building before a car door thumped and high heels clicked fast.
“Emma," Lucy said.
Emma stopped. “
