Rhett:
I lay at the edge of her bed—if you could call it a bed—more like a narrow slab of wood with a mattress that groaned under every breath. I'd built a makeshift nest from a tangle of borrowed blanket and pillow, all of it carrying faint scents that wrapped around me like ghosts: lavender, old ink, and something else—something sharp and soft and unmistakably her.
The dorm room was quiet now. Dim. The corners swallowed in shadow. The only sound was the low hum of wind slinking through her cracked window, brushing the old panes like fingers on glass. A full moon hovered outside, pouring silver light across the worn floorboards and casting soft shadows that danced when the curtains stirred.
Nights like this used to wreck me.
When the moon was full and bright like this, it hurt. It pul
