Thursday came faster than I wanted it to.
I got to room 214 early, same as always, laid out my folders in their usual order, and spent the ten minutes before he arrived rehearsing a version of myself that seemed normal, unbothered, a person who hadn't spent all week lying about a deleted file.
Rhys showed up on time, which had become the norm somewhere in the last month, and dropped into his chair with his laptop already open.
"So," he said, "I did some digging. Couldn't find the article again. Checked my downloads, my browser history, even texted the librarian database guy to see if he could pull it back up. Nothing."
"That's weird."
"Really weird." He glanced at me, quick, unreadable. "I don't usually lose things like that."
"Sometimes things just glitch."
"Yeah." He didn't sound
