Zara
I always knew something was off with Leo.
Not because of the way he touched me—his hands were warm, familiar, sometimes too eager but never cruel. Not because of the way he looked at me either—though sometimes, when he thought I wasn’t paying attention, there was a flicker of distance in his eyes. Like he wasn’t all here.
It was the silences.
The way his phone would buzz and he’d step out. The late nights with excuses about “work.” And the way he never wanted me too close when he thought I might peek at his messages.
Tonight, it all came together.
I was closing up the bar, wiping down the counter while Shirley tried convincing herself she was “fine” after another long day. She wasn’t, but I let her keep her mask. We all needed masks. The last of the bikers shuffled out, the musi
