The wind bites through my coat as I keep walking. I don't know where I'm going—only that I have to keep moving. The cold doesn't matter. The ache in my legs doesn't matter. The tightness in my chest, the fog in my head, the heat building behind my eyes—none of it matters.
I just want to disappear.
The streets are nearly empty. A few delivery trucks pass, their headlights casting long shadows on the icy pavement. Christmas lights still blink from windows and balconies, remnants of joy that now feel cruel. Like the universe forgot to turn off the illusion of warmth.
My phone vibrates. I don't want to check it, but I do. Noah. As expected.
I stare at his name for a long moment. Then I press the side button and turn it off. I can't. I can't be found. Not right now.
