SERAFINA
C-A-I-U—
No.
Backspace.
C-A-I-U-S.
I stared at it like it might do something. Like the letters would peel themselves off the screen and rearrange into an answer. A confession. A warning.
One minute I was at the event. The next, I was home.
I think Dorian drove. If he said anything, I didn’t hear it.
My shoes were off. Dress crumpled on the floor like I’d fought with it.
I didn’t even remember walking through the door.
As for “Caius”?
Google gave me nothing. Just mythological scraps, a dead bishop, and some dusty legal reference from a journal that looked like it hadn’t been touched since dial-up.
Still, the itch didn’t stop.
The name felt wrong. Too smooth on the tongue. Too easy to lie with.
Something about the name felt wrong. Like hearing a lie spoken too easily.
