Winding down
*Lena* The fluorescent lights flicker overhead, casting a harsh glow in the small motel room. I’m perched on the edge of a lumpy mattress, the springs creaking beneath me as I pick at a hastily prepared sandwich. My stomach churns, not from hunger, but from the whirlwind of emotions that has been swirling inside me since the moment we stepped out of that wreckage. Zac leans against the doorframe, arms crossed, his expression a mixture of concern and determination. “You should eat something,” he says, his voice gentle yet insistent. “It’s been a long day. You need your strength.” I look down at the half-eaten sandwich, the bread feeling dry and tasteless. “I know,” I reply, forcing a smile. “I just... I can’t stop thinking about everything that happened.” “Neither can I,” he admits, p
- Writer
