Zoey
Silence had a weight.
Days passed in fragments, the sound of buses outside, the soft hum of the refrigerator, the occasional drip from the faucet that kept time better than my heart did.
Brooklyn felt safer, but safety was a strange kind of loneliness.
Sometimes I’d catch myself scrolling through old messages before quickly shutting my phone again. His name was there. Always there, sitting unread at the top of my chat list.
I hadn’t replied since the night he told me not to go online.
Because what could I say?
That I missed him?
That I was scared?
That part of me wished I’d never walked into that café?
Tara texted me every morning to check in.
Tara: You okay? Eat something today.
Me: Trying.
Tara: Good. And please, stay off the news.
Me: I’m not. Promise.
It was half tr
