[Sera]
"You look like shit."
Riley's standing at the espresso machine, watching me wipe down the counter with the intensity of someone who's already diagnosed my entire medical history through vibes alone. The morning rush just ended, leaving the café in that blessed mid-morning lull where only a few stragglers nurse their drinks by the window.
"Good morning to you too," I mutter.
"I'm serious." She leans against the pastry case, arms crossed. "Didn't you rest yesterday? You look worse than you did before your day off."
"Just didn't sleep well," I say, scrubbing a spot that's already clean.
What I don't say: I spent most of the night sitting in my wrecked hallway with glass in my hair and an unconscious loan shark at my feet, waiting for someone to call the cops. Nobody did. Guess gu
