THE television was loud, the commentators screaming over the roar of the crowd as the match reached a heated moment. The living room lights were dimmed, beer bottles and half-eaten snacks cluttering the center table. Marcus, wrapped in a blanket despite claiming he was “perfectly fine,” lounged across the couch, remote in hand. Julian sat sprawled on the carpet, back resting against the couch, completely invested in the game.
But Charles?
Charles was everywhere but there.
He was seated at the far end of the couch, elbows on his knees, phone in hand. Every few seconds, he unlocked the screen, stared at it, locked it again. He checked his banking app. Refreshed it. Checked messages. Refreshed again. Nothing.
When the opposing team scored and Marcus groaned loudly, Charles barely reacted.
