Daisy
The house was dark when I got in.
I locked the door behind me, dropped my bag on the console table, and kicked off my heels. My feet were grateful. The rest of me was running on empty — wrung out, hollowed, and moving purely on autopilot.
I pulled out my phone and pulled up David’s contact before messaging him; my car is at Noon Bar on Downtown Park. Please collect it tonight or first thing tomorrow. Also, no pickup needed today. I won’t be going in. Then, I sent it.
I opened Sarah’s thread next.
Cancel everything today. All of it. Reschedule where you can; apologise where you can’t. I’ll be unreachable until tomorrow morning.
Sent.
I exhaled for what felt like the first time in twenty-four hours. Then I looked up. The sitting room was a disaster zone.
Popcorn. Everywhere. On
