Zara
For a split second, I consider letting it go to voicemail. I think about letting the quiet stretch just a little longer before I step fully into whatever comes next.
But I decide to answer.
“Hello?”
“Hi, is this Zara?” A woman’s voice comes through the speaker, bright and achingly young. “This is Claire from the property agency… you inquired about a studio yesterday. The one on Market Street?”
For a second, I can’t speak.
Not because I don’t know what to say, but because something inside me has gone very still, very quiet. As though the universe itself has paused to see what I’ll choose this time.
“Yes,” I say finally, my voice softer than before. “Yes, I did.”
“Well,” she says warmly, “it’s still available, and if you’d like, I can meet you there today. Even now.”
The word l
