The house felt weird that morning. Not just quiet—like, “Did someone hit mute on the universe?” quiet. The dishwasher hummed away, sounding honestly like it was ready for a nap. Every step? The floorboards let out this dramatic sigh, as if the whole house was rolling its eyes at you. Old houses, man—you can’t sneak anywhere without announcing it to the spirits or whoever’s listening.
They love the drama. Outside, birds were chirping away, totally oblivious to existential woes. The whole scene basically screamed, “Welcome to the Sad Girl Symphony.”
Selene just perched there at the kitchen island, clutching her mug of mint tea for dear life, not even bothering to sip. Her gaze kept drifting back to the calendar by the pantry—like she was waiting for it to blink first.
One date was circled
