Arielle woke up the next morning with the unsettling, suspicious feeling that something had gone terribly, catastrophically right.
Her apartment was quiet.
Too quiet.
Normally, her mornings sounded like chaos:
– her alarm refusing to go off
– the heater clanking like ghosts fighting
– her kettle exploding steam in her face
– her neighbor’s cat break-in attempts
But today?
Silence.
Warm, peaceful, not-a-single-thing-breaking silence.
She sat up slowly, squinting in case the ceiling planned to collapse.
It didn’t.
The lights were steady.
The floor wasn’t icy.
Nothing smelled like smoke.
Something was wrong.
Arielle padded to the kitchen, bracing for disaster, but the coffee maker turned on without blowing a fuse. The toast didn’t burn. The fridge light didn’t flicker like a
