I feel sick. I feel high. I feel disgusted. I feel flushed. I feel so many things at once that if I have to stay in this mint-and-sea-salt-scented room for one second longer, I’m going to start to scream and I might never stop.
Making full use of every ounce of willpower I possess, I turn and walk out.
I don’t run. Not at first. I close the door behind me. I walk past my desk. Past the snake plants, past the elevator bank, to the stairwell.
Then I run as fast as I can.
Reporting Officer: Det. M. Kowalski (Badge #[REDACTED])
INCIDENT TYPE: Missing Person / Suspicious Death
SUBJECT: [█████████ LAZAREVA], Female, Age [██]
LAST SEEN: [REDACTED] by husband [█████ LAZAREV]
The stairwell is cold and gray and empty. I sink down onto the concrete steps and let the tears come.
This is stupi
