Ezekiel's POV
The alarm buzzed at six fifteen, just like every other morning, but this time I didn't slam the snooze button because I was exhausted. I hit it because facing the day felt impossible.
Tuesday mornings used to flow without thought. Simple. Predictable.
I would grab my gym bag, throw on whichever sweatshirt didn't reek of sweat and old equipment, then drive to Anton's place. He would be standing on his front steps, spooning cereal from a bowl like some kind of maniac, football cleats already tied to his backpack. We would cruise to school together, discussing drills, making fun of our teachers, maybe grabbing coffee if time allowed.
Today felt different. I sat motionless on my mattress, staring at my phone screen, my finger frozen over Anton's contact.
I didn't send a message.
Didn't make the call.
Because nothing was simple anymore.
And faking it would have been dishonest.
