Shirley
The next morning, I welcomed the simplicity of work like it was my only anchor in this twisted, foggy mess of a life.
The nightmares had been relentless. The mark on my neck still tingled every so often, pulsing like a whisper from another world. I didn’t tell Zara—I didn’t know how. Or maybe, I just wasn’t ready to sound insane.
Instead, I leaned into routine.
And thankfully, today was quiet.
Zara was her usual self—bubbly, loud, and armed with way too much gossip about her new boyfriend, Leo, whom she apparently met at a tire shop of all places.
“I swear, Shirley,” she said, plopping herself on a barstool across from where I was wiping a glass. “He fixed my flat tire, offered me a ride, and we ended up at a freaking waffle diner by accident. Like, is that not fate?”
I chuc
