Chapter 8Alex stares at 26,816 words, highlights every last one of them, and presses Delete. They flash and vanish from the screen as if they never existed, and the relief he feels is palpable.
Then he sighs and clicks “undo,” and they reappear again, all 26,816 of them. It had felt good, even if it was just for a moment. Instead of deleting months of work outright, however, Alex opens a new document, closes his eyes, and begins to type blind.
“Hand me that pen,” Mason says, glancing at the table next to his chair. Conner stares for a moment, then gets up, walks over to the chair, picks up the pen, and hands it over. Their fingers brush and it’s electric, the building charge of the last month culminating in a single bright spark. He’s been watching Mason play with others, and the coffee
