Micah stepped out of the bathroom, some of his silver strands clinging to his forehead, still damp from splashing cold water. His reflection in the mirror by the closet caught a glimpse of his flushed face and slightly swollen lips. He looked away quickly and opened the closet door, the wooden hinges creaking in the quiet room.
He pulled out a black jacket and a pair of dark pants, moving briskly, as if the faster he dressed, the less he would have to think.
Behind him, Clyde lay on the bed, staring blankly at the ceiling. The faint rustle of clothes made him shift. His gaze slid toward Micah, following his tense movements. "Are you going out?" Clyde asked, pushing himself upright. "Planning to buy something? Stay here. I'll go instead."
Micah halted halfway through buttoning his jacket. He didn't turn around. "No need," he said simply, his tone clipped. He reached for his phone and the bag. "You'd better stay in the room tonight."
