I didn’t even have time to fake calm. Jack was already in my office, already standing like some noir movie hero who decided black slacks and self-control were enough character development for the day... and somehow... somehow... it was. His hands were in his pockets... like he didn’t just walk through every line I’d been trying to redraw for the past seventy-two hours... like he hadn’t been the note I re-read until my heart went blurry... like stepping back was just a concept he’d borrowed from a sad poem and not something I had taken seriously enough to grieve.
“So...” he said... smiling the kind of smile that knew it was a gamble to exist. “Can I step forward now?”
The room shrunk. Everything else blurred. The air between us felt thin... not like tension... like altitude... like I was
