But today, the room felt suffocating, like the walls were closing in. I tossed my jacket onto the couch and sank onto the bed, pulling out my phone. The screen lit up, and I hesitated for a moment before opening i********:. My fingers hovered over the keyboard, the words forming and dissolving in my mind until I finally settled on a simple message: Can we talk?
I hit send, staring at the screen as if willing her to respond. But the minutes ticked by, and nothing happened. With a frustrated sigh, I exited i********: and went to my contacts, scrolling through until I found the name I was looking for: Eli, the tech guy who could fix just about anything.
I started typing out a text, explaining the situation with the corrupted audio tape, when a knock came at the door. I gritted my teeth, not
