ZANDER
I look out the window. We are on the 34th floor of the CWP building. I am wearing Alex’s best suit, conscious of the executives sitting next to me and the surrounding cameras. They are only waiting now for my signature. No, Alex’s.
I grip my pen, then look outside again. The moon is glowing red against Bangkok’s skyline, looking low enough to touch. It moves into the Earth’s umbra, where the Sun is blocked out.
“Oh, right, it’s the eclipse,” I hear one of our bosses say. I thank the heavenly bodies. It’s enough distraction as I coil my fist, the familiar lightheadedness washing over me. The Sun, the Moon, and the Earth finally align, and I close my eyes just as I feel Alex tugging at the cord.
I tug back, but the cord snaps.
