Elara sat at the kitchen table, a stack of papers spread before her. The morning sunlight hit the documents at an angle that made her squint, but she didn’t care. She was halfway through reviewing the NGO’s new project proposals when her phone buzzed, dragging her attention back to the real world. Timothy was in the living room with his headphones in, sketching out ideas for the volunteer program on his tablet, completely absorbed.
“El, you okay?” he asked without looking up.
She glanced at him and gave a short nod. “I’m fine.” She tapped her pen against the table, uneasy. Something in the latest funding report didn’t sit right, and the numbers weren’t adding up the way she’d expected.
Timothy finally looked up, raising an eyebrow. “That sounds like an Elara frown. You’re not planning a
