Caleb is officially out of territory.
It’s framed as a long assignment. Open-ended. No fixed return window. The kind of posting that sounds temporary until you realize no one is willing to name an end date.
I nod when I’m told. Say the right things. Make a point of keeping my expression neutral.
It shouldn’t change anything.
That’s what I tell myself.
My routines say otherwise.
The first sign is subtle. I don’t notice it until late afternoon, when my stomach tightens painfully and I realize I haven’t eaten since morning. Not because I was busy. Because I forgot. The thought passes through my head like an afterimage. Eat. Right. That’s a thing.
I grab whatever’s closest. A protein bar. Cold coffee reheated until it tastes scorched. I eat standing up, distracted, already half elsewher
