[Fenrick]
The drive back was uneventful. I whistled along to a song I barely liked, more out of habit than any real enjoyment. My finger tapped against the steering wheel in a quiet rhythm as I waited for the traffic lights to turn green, watching the world shuffle past my windshield in pieces—people crossing the street, women chatting on the sidewalk, a man in a business suit yelling into his phone.
I didn’t envy them. I didn’t want any of it. But I noticed it. I always noticed.
I pulled into the office lot some hours after midday. I wasn’t planning to stay long—just long enough to grab a few files, send out a couple of emails, maybe pretend for an hour or two, and get some work done. Work had long since become less of a livelihood and more of a sedative. The routine numbed the emptine
