knew exactly what you were doing.”
The words landed like something heavier than comfort. Like a verdict.
I wanted to ask her what she meant. I wanted to demand she explain the coin, the strange certainty in her voice. But the revolving doors were turning, and inside them, the life I thought I had was already moving on without me.
I walked away.
And the wind hit harder without my jacket.
Two weeks is a short time to lose your footing. It’s also more than enough time for panic to
