Myra
The darkness wasn't just an absence of light; it was a physical weight. In the city, the "dark" was always filtered through the orange glow of streetlamps or the hum of a neighbor’s television. Here, with the power grid surrendered to the blizzard, it was absolute.
My heart thudded against my ribs—a frantic, trapped bird. I groped blindly, my wet palm slipping against the tiled wall until I felt the rough fabric of my towel on the hook. I yanked it down, wrapping it around myself with trembling fingers. Maybe it was just my panicked imagination, but it seemed like the temperature of the air in the bathroom was already plummeting. Without the heater, the steam was vanishing, replaced by a biting chill that made the water on my skin feel like needles.
Focus, Myra. Math. Logic.
But t
