Darrell
Thursday had crawled by in slow motion. Office hours felt endless—students droning on about extensions, the department secretary dropping off more “grading protocol” reminders like I hadn’t already fixed the damn thing. I kept my answers short, my smile professional, but my head was already hours ahead.
Bella hadn’t texted back since Tuesday. I’d sent Today at home by 7 and gotten nothing. No “okay,” no “see you then", and no excuse about being busy. Just silence. It should’ve pissed me off—most people would at least acknowledge—but the quiet only made the pull stronger. She was coming. She had to.
I got back to the apartment around 5:30, showered, and threw on a black T-shirt and jeans. I ordered Thai takeout anyway—mild green curry, extra rice—and left it on the counter like
