The call comes. They found me. I knew it would happen, but the speed of it leaves my throat tight. I stare at the buzzing phone on my dresser, then finish buttoning my shirt with numb fingers. A door opens and closes softly down the hall. My heart gives a heavy, familiar tug. Elara is still ignoring me.
She has been, ever since she walked out and locked herself in her room yesterday. I should be grateful for the silence. Less contact means less trouble. But my body does not care about trouble. It wants her in ways that are complicated and wrong. With Elara, it is not just about wanting her. It is about wanting to stay. To lie in bed and talk about nothing. To hear her laugh. To tease her until she shoves me away, smiling. I have not rolled a blunt in a week. She is the reason. She calms the storm in me without even trying.
Her voice. Her singing. Her entire, frustrating existence.
