The clock on the wall kept ticking, second by second. It's been four hours since the wildcard announcement.
But it didn't feel like four hours. It felt like days trapped in a time loop. Everyone looking at everyone like they were strangers. Or threats.
Breakfast was laid out in the common area.
Cold oats in metal bowls. Rock-hard slices of bread. Juice so thin it tasted more like colored water than fruit.
No one had the appetite for it… No one touched anything. People just sat there, hands folded, eyes shifting around the room like they were expecting someone to pull a knife from under the table.
No one… except Luca.
That guy was gliding around like it was Sunday brunch. He moved from one table to the next, casually picking up untouched trays, stacking food on his own. He grabbed an apple off someone's plate, dipped his fingers into someone else's oatmeal, drank leftover juice straight from a half-used cup.
