Caleb confronts me directly.
No preamble.
No softening language.
He chooses a private space, one of the smaller rooms off the admin corridor that people use when they don’t want to be interrupted and don’t want to be seen making a point of privacy either. The door closes behind us with a soft, definitive sound that feels louder than it should.
No witnesses.
That’s deliberate.
The room is plain. Table. Two chairs. A narrow window set high in the wall that lets in light without offering a view. Nothing here to distract or soften the moment. No props. No buffer.
Caleb doesn’t sit.
Neither do I.
He stands across from me, posture straight, shoulders squared, hands loose at his sides. Not aggressive. Not relaxed either. Focused in the way people get when they’ve already decided the conv
