The silence comes first.
Not the good kind. Not the kind that feels earned. The kind that lands after something has already been decided somewhere else. Like a door closing in a room I’m not in.
I notice it because my phone stops buzzing.
No new mentions. No vibrating panic in my palm. No constant pull to refresh like maybe I can still change something if I catch it fast enough. Just stillness.
It makes me uneasy.
I’m curled into the corner of the couch, legs tucked under me, wearing one of Mara’s old T shirts because my own clothes feel wrong lately. Too tight. Too aware of my body. The house is quiet enough that I can hear the fridge humming and I hate that sound. It makes everything feel temporary. Like nothing here expects to stay.
I reach for my phone again.
The statements are
