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Still nothing.

She nods.“Didn’t think so.”

Outside, the sun is somewhere past the horizon.There’s a breeze.It rattles the warped blinds in bursts.Dust dances through the slats.

“You got somewhere to go when you’re upright again?”she asks.

“Eventually.”

“You should make it sooner.”

“I plan to.”

“Planning doesn’t mean shit if you stay on that couch.”She shakes her head.“You’ve got to get up.Start moving.”

She stands.Picks up the bowl and the rag.Walks toward the door as if she’s done being useful.

“Hey,” I call.

She turns.

“Thank you.”

Her face doesn’t change.She just nods once.“Don’t make me regret it.I’ve got a family.”

Then she disappears out the door.

I sit there for a long time.Long enough for the tea to go cold and the sun to fade completely.

When I finally stand, it’s with a limp and a hand braced on the wall.

The woman left my bag by the door.My notebook’s still inside.I check to make sure.I don’t know why.No one touches it.No one excepther.

I pick it up.Run my fingers over the pages like it’ll help.

There’s a name I haven’t crossed out.One that never had a red X.

Rachel.

Not because she’s innocent.Because I fucked up.And I need to fix it.

I close the notebook, zip the bag, and stare at the door.

I don’t owe her anything.She’s not here, and she doesn’t care.But I can’t shake it—I should be further along by now.I should have already moved.

My ribs flare with every breath.My shirt sticks to my side.I can barely stand, but I force myself up.The room tilts.I grab the table, waiting for the world to stop spinning.

Outside, the moon’s rising.The stars are clear.I should be out there—on the road, tracking down every lead, hunting.

But I’m stuck here.

I can’t move.My body’s giving up, and I’m still looking at the door, as though it’s the key to everything.

I try to push forward.My legs shake.My vision goes dark for a second.And I hear it—footsteps.A sound from outside.

I freeze.

Then it happens again.Closer this time.