Emma:
The hallway feels colder without him behind me.
Every step I take is careful, too careful, like if I breathe too loudly someone will hear what we just did. What I just did. My legs are still trembling, my throat raw, my lips swollen, and nothing about me feels normal.
I don’t feel like myself.
I feel like someone rewired me.
Someone named Wright.
I slip into the classroom before anyone arrives, shutting the door with a soft click. My heart won’t slow down—won’t settle—because I can still feel him. On my tongue. On my breath. In the center of my chest, like something I’ve swallowed and can’t let go of.
I grab the edge of my desk, trying to breathe.
A minute. He said one minute.
It feels like an hour.
Footsteps finally echo down the hall—slow, measured strides meant to sound
