The morning arrived without permission. Shea woke to the soft vibration of her phone against the nightstand, the city already awake beyond the thin curtain of her window. For half a second, she forgot everything: the articles, the photos, the way Joe's voice had quieted instead of risen.
Then memory rushed back in.
She lay still, staring at the ceiling, letting the sounds of the city seep into her bones. Her phone buzzed again. This time, she reached for it.
Work emails. Messages from group chats she muted months ago. A notification from an app she didn't remember downloading that now apparently had opinions about her life. She didn't open any of them.
Instead, she turned onto her side and pressed her face into the pillow, breathing in slowly until the tightness in her chest eased just enough for her to move.
Get up, shower, function. That was the plan.
