Anna
The familiar creak of the old apartment door had barely faded when Clare’s voice filled the space, sharp and loud and very, very Clare. The living room looked exactly the same as I have left, slightly cluttered, warm in an unpolished way, with mismatched cushions and a faint smell of coffee and vanilla candles lingering in the air. It felt like stepping into a version of my life that had been paused, waiting for me to come back.
And now here I was, sitting on the worn-out grey sofa while Clare paced back and forth in front of me like a lawyer preparing for a closing argument.
She had been doing that for the past ten minutes.
I leaned back into the cushions, watching her with a mix of exhaustion and amusement. My head was still heavy from everything that had happened since morning,
