Micah felt unusually uneasy after meeting Darcy that afternoon. He couldn't pin down why. Maybe it was because of that confrontation at lunch. Maybe it was the look in Darcy's eyes a few minutes ago. Or maybe it was just his own guilty conscience. Whatever the cause, the unease wouldn't leave his chest. It sat there like a giant stone, pressing down with every breath.
So instead of going down, he stayed holed up in his room. He opened up his wardrobe, pulled clothes from the drawers, folded them neatly, and stacked them into his suitcase. His hands moved mechanically, but his mind was far from the act. Every now and then, Micah would pause, staring blankly at the open suitcase. Darcy's blank expression from earlier replayed in his mind, tightening something deep in his chest. Something about him was off. But he shoved the thought aside by busying himself again.
