The silence after the observers left was heavier than their presence had been. When they were here, the hum of their machines had masked the natural sounds of the estate. Now, with them gone, the house felt exposed. Every creak of the floorboards, every shift of the wind in the eaves, sounded amplified.
I woke before the alarm. The room was grey with pre-dawn light. Ezra was asleep beside me, his breathing steady. I did not move to wake him. I lay still and listened to the house. It was not humming today. It was waiting.
I slipped out of bed. The floorboards were cold. I pulled on a sweater and walked to the kitchen. The coffee machine was silent. I made it manually. The water boiled. The steam rose. The smell was bitter and sharp. I took the mug to the living room. I sat on the couch. I
