The song keeps playing long after we leave it.
Not just on the platform.
In the house.
In the world.
In him.
I hear it everywhere the next morning.
Through Mia’s headphones as she scrolls, thumb flying, eyes wide.
From a tablet, a guard forgot to mute in the hallway.
From a distant kitchen radio, some staff members streamed a “mystery confession” playlist.
My own voice, ricocheting off walls, I thought would swallow it.
> *…if I was owned, then I was also saved
> and I don’t know which version I’ll take to my grave…*
Mia slips into my room, shuts the door with her hip, and flops onto the bed.
“You went viral again,” she says. “This time on purpose.”
I sit by the window, knees hugged to my chest, and my phone face down beside me.
“How bad?” I ask.
She snorts.
“Bad de
