Friday I made a plan.
Not a dramatic one. Just the kind of ordinary structure I reached for when things felt loose clear schedule, early start, work that had definite outcomes. The Bisi call at nine. Phase three prep at eleven. Lunch at my desk. Afternoon blocked for the Henderson account.
Routine as scaffolding. It had worked before.
The problem was that the Thursday conversation kept surfacing between tasks. Not the whole thing just pieces. The pen in my hand. The way he'd said don't disappear without a word and then stopped, like the ask was complete and didn't need decorating. The way I'd said I'll try and he'd just nodded.
Received. Like it was enough.
I couldn't stop turning it over. Not with dread that was the strange part. With something closer to confusion. I didn't have a ca
